He Looked Right Through Me
by priceless advice
Summary: Just how accurately can we guess the lives of those we pass on the street?
1. Prologue

Hey guys! This is my first story up on here, so please give me a chance and read it. I've been reading stories on here for a while (I reviewed them as Alicia) and I was inspired by a lot of the stories on here so I decided to write my own. I am open to anything you want to say about my story . Like it, hate it, whatever, but remember to tell me why, constructive criticism please! 

Oh yeah and, I don't own any of the characters on here except for the girl, they all belong to SE Hinton…

He sighed as his fatigued figure collapsed to the curb. Greaser. He was just a greaser, nothing to it. Dirty jeans, a grimy shirt, his whole presence was just nasty. His hair was a thick black mass of slimy and slithery fat. To the folks passing by that's all he was, or maybe not even _that_. He was just as see through as the numerous holes in his disheveled clothing. His face was hidden as he turned his head down to his pockets, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. His slim fingers fished out a single cigarette and guided it toward the match he had struck. 

            Cigarettes were just perfect for greasers. Toxic, damaging, poisonous. The smoke curled and twisted, the smoke had a filthy aura. Alcohol was the poison of choice for the ritzy socs. Alcohol was slick, fluent, smooth. On the surface it was. But beneath it could be just as damaging as cigarettes. 

            Because his faced was concealed, his story could not be seen. The long, thick scar that trailed from his temple all the way down past his cheekbone. His story was a harsh one, one that people had no idea of as they walked past him in street, or in the halls of school. He could hear the screams, the arguing ringing in his ears as if it were second nature to him. The scars were a testament to the bodily harm he had endured time after time. But worse than that were the mental lesions. They were the least noticeable of all, but the most painful. _Rejection. Fear. Worthlessness. _It could be seen in his eyes, but what did the people passing on the street care? He was invisible, he didn't have a story. 

            Pony tried to concentrate on his novel, but couldn't for the commotion that continued a few houses down from his own. He could feel that pang in his body again, that feeling. What was it? Oh yeah. It was a pang of something…maybe hurt? A bit of anger? He didn't really know, he couldn't figure it out.  Whatever emotion it was, it was for his friend that was in the middle of that chaos. He and his brothers were pretty much used to hearing the yelling and the screaming, but that didn't make it any easier. Pony's eyes rose from the novel to one of his brothers Soda. Soda's acute brown eyes matched the temperament of Pony's. They were bothered by it, but continued as if nothing was going on. Just ignore the problem and maybe it could go away. There was nothing they could do anyway. 

            A few minutes passed before they heard the slamming of their front door. Darry, Pony, and Soda looked up to see Johnny. 

            "Can I stay here for tonight?" he questioned, his faint voice almost inaudible. Soda got up and patted him on the shoulder with a forced smile on his zealous face. 

            "Hey buddy of course you can," he answered soothingly. 

            "Pony it's time for bed," Darry ordered as he himself rose up from the chair to prepare for bed. "You can sleep on the sofa Johnny," he said with an unusually compassionate tone. Soda continued to sit on the floor in front of the television, and Darry rotated his head until he was face to face with Soda. "That goes for you too," Darry said with a slight grin on his face. Pony and Soda didn't usually follow orders so easily, but this night was different. Johnny was the gang's pet. 

Okay ya'll there is more to come (well, if you were even interested to make it down this far LOL), I already have a lot of it written so if you review I'll post soon. 


	2. Chapter 1

Alright! Here is the second installment. To all those who reviewed: Thanks so much for giving my story a chance! It's so cool to write a story because you enjoy doing it and get positive responses from it…

Vampire-Slaying-Greaser-Gal: Hmm where'd you get that idea from? Haha, actually I was considering it so it might be heading in that direction, although Im not sure if it will turn into a full blown romance, im trying to keep those things kinda subtle. And yes I do agree with you that Johnny needs some lovin'. Sheesh you just guess these things too well;)

Starstruck: What can I say? I loved your story "Stranger Steve stared" and after reading that and also after reading two cool stories in my lit class I got the idea to write this story. I was inspired by your style of writing to write this story. 

Scarlett: Where's your next story? I've been waiting and waiting to read more great stories from you…

BabyG: Okay I'll tell ya a little ahead of time, there's gonna be a little bit of one of the hoody characters in the next chapter…you can probably guess who;)

MissLKid: Yes Johnny is very sweet isn't he? I'm so glad that you liked my story so far, even thought it was such a tiny piece! Hopefully I'll make the later chapters live up to the prologue, so you can enjoy itJ  

This chapter may seem kinda slow but it'll pick up in the next one….

Oh yeah and I don't own any of the characters except the girl, blah blah…belong to SE Hinton (do I have to do this every chapter or is the first disclaimer enough?) Disclaimers…*shakes head* 

She woke up. Her breathing was labored, her skin was sticky and moist. As she ambled around the house her breathing became normal again. She stepped outside, expecting the sweltering heat, the sultriness of her native home. But it was nice and cool, very different from what she was used to. But the heat followed her everywhere, the discomfort, the unpleasantness. She had to remind herself that she wasn't home anymore, she wouldn't ever be home again. Her past life was lost and it couldn't be regained.  

~*flashback*~__

            She stepped out onto the pavement, her dark, shiny hair blowing in the scarce breeze. Her long hair was ill-fitted for the scorching heat that surrounded her. The air was damp and heavy and its discomfort was inescapable. Her big blue eyes glanced around, a smile on her delicate face. She was a pretty little girl and she knew it. She knew that looks were important. What did people see when she passed by them on the street, her head held high, a wry smile plastered on her face? Most older adults would look at her with an approving grin. 'Such a nice girl,' they would think to themselves. 'Her world is so easy, so fun, so…trivial,' most would think to themselves.  She was on a migration in between childhood and adulthood, she was a typical adolescent. The newly adolescent boys would look at her in the corner of their eyes, a secret wanting, a new-found feeling that was beginning to rise up in them but hadn't fully matured yet. What was her story then? What was her story to come? Just how much do we have in common with the people that we see once in a lifetime, that we pass on the street?

~*end of flashback*~

            She sat on the front step. Her ugliness was inside her; it was undetectable. 

            The school bell had just rung and Pony was late again. He hastened through the school doors past the office. Only one thing was on his mind, and that was to get to the classroom before Mr. Payne slammed the door and locked it like he usually did. Mr. Payne was the mathematics teacher, and his name wasn't too far removed from his personality. The man went through mood swings, one minute he'd be joking with the class, the next minute he'd be yelling like there was no tomorrow. Pony turned the corner and was a few steps away from the classroom when he felt his body slam into that of someone else. Books went flying, and all he could see was a giant mass of long dark hair. After the initial shock Pony glanced down at the figure that lay on the floor. She brushed the hair away from her face, her dark blue eyes gleaming through. Ponyboy did a double take as he viewed her features again. There was something about her eyes that seemed oddly familiar, something you didn't see too often in the girls at school. He gently placed out his hand, waiting for her to place her own hand in his so he could help her up. 

            "Geez….I'm so sorry," Ponyboy claimed apologetically as she hesitantly placed her hand in his own. Threads of hair covered one of her eyes, and the other seemed to emptily stare back into Ponyboy's own green eyes. 

            "It's okay I guess," she counteracted, "another shitty occurrence in my wonderfully shitty day." She turned to leave when she remembered that she had no idea where she was going. "Oh geez okay, I'm sorry," she sighed, glancing down at the paper that she held. "It's my first day here, I'm lost." Pony looked over to his classroom, seeing that the door had already been shut and locked. 

            "I can help you with that…well if you want me to," he stated. The girl gave him a slight nod of the head and handed him the paper, which told where her class was. They leisurely shuffled through the school halls until they finally arrived at their destination. 

            "Hey," she said, looking down. Her voice seemed a little more subdued as she said "thanks," and proceeded into the classroom. 

            Music was blasting from the parking lot that occupied two very truant greasers. The day had started out chilly, but now it was later on in the day and the sun was blaring down and delving into their pores. It was February and they were not prepared for the blistering heat that had crept up on them so quickly. But it wasn't that bad…they had their beer to cool them down. The one with rusty colored sideburns popped open his third beer and guzzled it down, his now red forehead beaded with sweat. He looked over to Johnny, who wasn't doing any better than Two-Bit. His heavily greased black hair seemed to attract the sun directly to his head, and despite the grease his hair almost seemed to hang limp from fatigue. 

            "Refreshments are available in the lobby," Two-bit cracked in a high voice, pointing to the beer in the backseat as he mocked the advertisements that were played before movies at the nightly drive in. Johnny quickly shook his head at Two-Bit's offer. The radio that was blasting from their car now switched songs and the two greasers instantly recognized it….

            It's been a hard day's night…

            And I been workin' like a dog…

Two-Bit quickly switched stations and settled on a station that was playing a song more suited for their tastes…

            I can't get no satisfaction

            I can't get no girly action

            Cause I try and I try and I try and I try…

Suddenly the school bell rang, signaling the end of school. Johnny automatically sunk lower into his seat, subconsciously avoiding the jumble of faces who were about to come crashing through the front double doors. Two-bit put on his jacket despite the blistering heat, and hid the beer he had half guzzled inside of it. Ten minutes passed and the main surge of the crowd had already come through. Johnny lifted his body higher in the seat as Two-bit cranked up the car, waiting for Pony to arrive so they could take off. Finally, after 15 long ass minutes, Pony came gliding through the doors and hopped into the car. 

            "Finally!" Two-bit exclaimed as he turned his head to Pony in the back seat. The car was on a hill and Two-Bit let off the brake without exactly looking forward… 

            He heard someone scream, and instantly stepped on the brakes as the car came to a screeching halt. 

            "Oh shit!" Two-bit screamed as he looked out over the door to see what he had almost crashed into…

            "You asshole! Watch where you're going!"  shouted a girl under a mass of dark hair, who had dived out of the path of the car and landed on the ground. Pony leaned out the car to see who it was, and his eyes instantly came into contact with her eyes. Recognition was instantly written all over her face. She brushed off her jeans and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I can't believe this," she stated as she began to walk away. Pony, Two-bit, and Johnny exchanged looks, both being shocked over how potentially dangerous the situation could've been. But they also exchanged looks because….because she was curiously attractive. Not as trashy as a greaser girl, not as preppy as a soc. Not as boring or naïve as a middle class girl was. She was….just different. "Just what exactly is her story?" they all thought to themselves. 

Lyrics from "Hard Day's Night" by The Beatles and "Satisfaction" by The Rolling Stones


	3. Chapter 2

Hey you guys! Once again thanks so much for reading and reviewing my story, I really appreciate it!   
  
jkb: I haven't gotten around to reading your story yet, but I heard through the grapevine that its really good so Im gonna read it sometime soon! Thanks so much for taking your time to read/ review:)  
  
killslay: Thanks for your suggestion on using the king's music:) It just seems like in every outsider's fanfic, whenever someone wants to mention music that the greasers are listening to, its always Elvis. There was other music at the time in 1966, so I wanna use the other music. I thought it'd be cool to use the Rolling Stones since they were kind of the "rebellious" british guys as opposed to the Beatles. So you know Socs: good guys: beatles.....greasers: bad guys: rolling stones, blah blah blah u get it Im sure. Oh, and the Rolling Stones came out with "Satisfaction" in 1966. But thanks for bringing that up, I need people to bring these things up in case my story needs fixing.  
  
Okay now to the story....just to warn you guys, there is a small sex scene in this chapter, but it's not really that explicit so Im gonna bump the rating to "R" but not "NC-17".   
Remember...please give me suggestions, comments, whatever, when u review! Tell me if the chapter is too long, whatever, so I can improve.  
  
And this chapter may seem confusing, so if you guys get confused, then tell me so maybe I can figure out some way to revise it so that it's more understandable.  
Whenever something is italicized it means that it's a flashback.  
Alright....I hope you enjoy it!  
  
  
He sat at one of Buck's parties. His slim figure absorbed the alcohol, letting the calmness seep through. After finishing the alcohol, he set down the bottle and pulled out a pack of smokes. For some really odd fucking reason, he didn't feel like getting totally crocked tonight. Maybe it was the odd change in the weather, the heaviness that surrounded Tulsa seemed to settle intensely right on him…yeah maybe it was some shit like that. He scanned the living room, looking for some hot chick. He could feel the uneasiness arise in him, the feverish uncontrollable feeling that was pulling him from the inside.   
  
All the chicks in the party had miniskirts that were strained onto them, and skintight blouses that cramped and chocked their breasts. Their hair was teased up as high as it could go, their faces masked with make-up. As he was about to rise up to have some enjoyment with a lucky victim, a figure stepped in front of him. Her slender arm reached over and pulled a cigarette from the box in his hand. She pulled it up to her attractive lips, waiting for Dally to strike her a match. Dally felt his blood start to boil. He glared at her with fuming eyes, eyes that would scare anybody away. As he continued to stare into her eyes, he noticed something weird…something eery. 'What was it about her eyes?' he thought to himself. It all came to him in an instant, his blood turning ice cold as he dropped his pack of cigarettes. Her eyes were like…Johnny's eyes. Johnnycake, who suffered from abuse and neglect. Johnny, who had lost his innocence so young. Her eyes were empty, so old for her age.  
  
Summer looked at Dally as the cigarette teetered in between her lips, then fell to the ground. She didn't get frightened too often by some hoodlum like him, but there was something about him that she now realized was not to be messed with. But other than the common vibes that this guy let off, she couldn't quite pinpoint what it was about him that kind of…frightened her. Something that made the hairs on the back of her neck raise up.   
  
"Is something wrong?" she hesitantly questioned him, not really wanting to know exactly what was wrong. Dally avoided her eyes, trying to return back to his normal self.  
  
"No nothing's, uh, nothing's wrong." Despite the initial shock he couldn't help his eyes from roaming over body. She was dressed in a knee length red skirt and a black, laced satin blouse that perfectly fit her slender figure. The clothes seemed to be tossed on so effortlessly yet it looked refined on her, unlike the baby dolls who had sucked and squeezed into their stretchy fabrics. There was something about her so intense that she didn't need to try hard to look pleasing. Her long shiny hair looked fittingly natural, yet it was graceful and as delicate as her face. He looked up into her eyes again and she blinked, showing her long, dark eyelashes. The moisture of her face, which was caused by the humid air, strangely complimented her.   
  
He could feel the fever rising inside him again, the uncontrollable pull that ruled his mind. He ran his hand across her back, over to her shoulder. The sensation made her feel uneasy. She remembered the way **his** hand used to lightly graze her skin with the tips of his fingers, so delicate, it seemed…   
  
She wanted it to stop, but at the same time she needed it so bad. Summer was afraid, deathly afraid of being attached to someone. But for some reason she needed that physical satisfaction, she needed it and if she didn't get it she would go crazy. She paced along with Dally to nearest bedroom, and she lied down on the cot that had been opened onto the floor. They both began to discard their clothing, and as Summer started to unbutton her bra, Dally's eyes penetrated her as he leaned in for a kiss….  
  
_It was the eyes, the pale blue eyes that frightened her. Just like **his** cold, pale, detached eyes. His skin was so white, his black hair long and scraggly. He was a lot older than 18 years, she was starting to realize…but…he had seemed so much younger to her when she first had glanced at him in the parking lot. The parking lot where the older, cool kids hung out at. Now she was in too deep to turn back. _  
  
**_ Cold late night so long ago  
When I was not so strong you know  
A pretty man came to me   
Never seen eyes so blue  
I could not run away  
It seemed we'd seen each other in a dream  
It seemed like he knew me  
He looked right through me  
"Come on home, girl," he said with a smile  
"You don't have to love me yet  
Let's get high a while  
But try to understand  
Try to understand  
Try try try to understand  
I'm a magic man." _**  
  
Summer felt her whole body tremble from as Dally's lips met hers. The fever inside her was making her weaker than usual, but the panic she felt surged through her body. She tried to scream as she pushed on Dally's chest. His breaths came in shorts gasps as he pulled his greedy mouth apart from hers.   
  
"I'll…I'll continue," she forced out, "but under one condition." Dally gazed at her in disbelief. He could feel the blood circulating through his body as he waited for her to continue.   
  
"Don't tell me you're backing out now," he said, trying to keep calm.   
  
"I'm not going to back out," she stated. "But I'm not gonna go through with this if it's too personal. I don't want," she faltered, "I don't want any kissing." Dally who was puzzled by this, was too far along to go back. How the hell could you do…that…but be afraid to kiss?   
  
"Fine….it's fine! Let's just get this over with," he replied, as he tore off her pants and removed her delicate underwear. He danced inside of her and she followed suit, moving to a lurid rhythm. But she wouldn't look at the eyes. He also avoided her eyes, the two so connected in one way, so disconnected in another way. His desire exploded and they were both hot and sticky from the delirium. They lay for a second, catching their breaths, and finally Summer took one last, hard look into Dally's face. She pulled on her clothing and escaped the house. Dally was left there confused and shocked. 'No,' Dally thought to himself after a few minutes as he guzzled down some hard liquor, 'she didn't really shock me. She was just an easy fuck. Nobody frightens the dangerous, fearless Dallas Winston.'   
  
  
  
  
Johnny scuffled on the cracked pavement, the ache starting dully in his bones, bleeding throughout his entire body and lastly reaching his soul. _Soul?_ Did he even have a soul left? He could feel his eye starting to throb, and the lacerations on his back were going to leave some mighty marks. No, he didn't have soul left. How can you have a soul when your insides had rotted out? Termites had gnawed his insides, bit by bit, tearing and gashing till there was nothing left. They mangled and mutilated first his organs, followed by the muscle, leaving only the thick blood coursing through his swollen veins and the baggy skin that hung loosely around his skeleton. Leeches had sucked through his supple exterior and greedily absorbed the crimson fluid, leaving nothing for his heart to pump. But wait, it wasn't actually a heart. A heart felt tenderness, affection, whatever people wanted to call it. Didn't a heart feel that emotion people always referred to as love? It was just a vascular organ, forcing nothing but air throughout his meaningless carcass. He could hide the damage that had been done to his back, but he couldn't hide the dark purple sphere that was going to be surrounding his eye tomorrow. Why hide it? People might as well see his ugliness.   
  
  
  
  
Summer scurried down the same cracked street Johnny had minutes before. She could feel her hands start to tremble.   
  
"Damn!" she cursed out loud, remembering she had left the cigarettes at the house, under the pillow of course, so that the irritation known as her aunt wouldn't take the damn things away from her. She had to get home quick before the irritation found out she was gone.   
  
**~*earlier that night*~**  
**She had been strained into consciousness again, arising from the coma that had consumed her. She didn't know which was worse; the awful and terrifying depths of the abyss which her mind pulled her into when she dozed off, or the suffocation of tossing and turning in bed, thinking about that thing her body needed so bad, so much that she burned with pain. Just as the night before she stepped out the front door, hoping maybe the feeling would go away. But unlike the cool breeze of the night before to calm her down, the air was intensely claustrophobic, wrathfully searing. The hot atmosphere only encouraged the fever inside of her like grease to a fire, and there was no way she could settle it now. The oven-like atmosphere reminded her of a time once back in Georgia during the summer... **  
  
_The sun was beating down on them like there was no tomorrow. Mommy and Daddy were having a party in the backyard. A few weeks before the party Summer had seen some of the people who lived really far away from their house. They lived in a nasty junkyard and Summer and her parents passed by there in their big silver car. The big silver car was so pretty, and Mommy and Daddy would never leave home without it! Summer glanced out the window while her father turned his face away from the scene and pretended to be focused on driving. The dirty old cars were so yucky. Summer took in as much of the site as she could because she didn't ever see things like this. The people were outside having a barbeque. They hungrily ate the ribs, sauce covering their face and dripping from their lips.   
  
"Oh my lord!" Mommy had exclaimed. Summer was real curious about the way those people were, even the way they ate. Her Mommy and Daddy would never let her eat like that, especially around other people. She had asked her Mommy why they couldn't do things like that in front of others.   
  
"You wouldn't want your Daddy to be seen with sauce all over his face, would you? It wouldn't look too pleasant."   
  
Summer came to the conclusion that if you ate barbeque ribs drenched sloppily with sauce you were not a good person. If you ate cute little sandwiches cut into triangles with a toothpick stuck through them, then people would like you. Her mommy might as well have said, "Because your Daddy needs to present the best possible face to the public, they are his audience. He needs to con them into thinking that he is a decent man."   
  
Of course the toothpick should have an olive stuck on it. That's why they were eating them right now at the party. The drinks were important too. Tea or lemonade, with a little slice of lemon teetering off the edge of a fancy glass. Summer tried to be as good as possible, and drink her sweet lemonade and eat her triangle sandwich.   
  
But party after party Summer got sick of the monotony of triangle sandwiches and sweet lemonade. She always remembered the junkyard, and soon wanted to devour barbeque ribs like those dirty people did. She wanted to stand out in the scorching sun, sweat dripping from her forehead and leaking from her smelly arm-pits. She wanted her dad, with his stinky arm-pits too, to shove the raw ribs onto a monstrous fire that would be made right in the middle of the backyard. They would watch as their primitive, gluttonous potbellies roared with ravenous hunger, their huge tongues hanging out and dripping saliva like wolves. After her dad would pull the black, scorched ribs from the fire her mom would bring a huge bowl of deep red barbeque sauce. She would take the ladle she always used to serve lemonade and drench the ribs with the thick red sauce. All three of them, while Mommy and Daddy's audience watched with their mouths hanging open in shock, would tear off the meat from the ribs, fat and oil and sauce dripping down their faces onto their chests. Summer's Mommy, while the sauce covered her face and huge arm-pit stains gave off a dreadful odor, would stop chomping on her meat for a second and give that fake, bright white smile she always had plastered on her face. Except this time the smile wouldn't be all that white. _  
  
**Summer had heard a faint rhythm off in the distance as it floated through the stiff air. It didn't matter how far away it was, she always felt the passion, the zest, the rapture that the music carried. A single stream of sweat dripped from her forehead, and she knew the only way to settle the sickness that was rising inside of her was to head toward the vivid coolness of the party…**  
  
~*back to the cracked street*~  
Summer was now only a few feet away from her house. Now that her mind was clear, now that she had released the energy, she wondered how the hell she had made it to the party and back without getting attacked by some lowlife. She had pretty much traveled from the irritation's house in the middle class neighborhoods to the ghetto, the shitty side of town where the streets reeked of urine. What would some homeless person, some pimp, some whore think of her as she passed by them, her flaming red skirt and her black satin blouse? Would they have any clue that she came from a family where her dad was a politician, and wouldn't let his family eat barbeque ribs because they weren't decent? Did they have any idea of the elaborate dreams she had as a child, wanting to have a huge fire in the middle of their perfect yard and see her mom grinning with sweat stains?   
  
What the hell did a pimp, a homeless person, a whore care anyway, right? They had enough worries about themselves than to sit on a curb and guess where this girl had come from, and where she was going. Summer did know one thing though. If she walked the streets anymore at night alone, she knew she would get herself into some deep shit. 'Try to remember next time!' she silently scolded herself. But she knew that the next night, when she would be tossing and turning in bed, with the heat pressing down on her, she wouldn't give a damn about whether or not she died on the streets.   
  
_**Lyrics from "Magic Man" by Heart**_  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 3

Okay! Here is the fourth installment...  
  
MissLkid and Killslay: I want to thank both you for keeping up with my story! I really hope this next chapter doesn't disappoint...  
  
Starstruck: Thank you so so much for taking the time to read my songfic and responding to it! Like I told Jkb, it's so great to have someone read your stuff and feel it. It's so great some people can understand the meaning behind your work. I really hope you will have the time/passion/etc. to continue with stranger steve stared cause there ain't nothin else on fanfiction.net like it!  
  
Jkb: I can't thank you enough for reading both this story and my songfic:):) Im glad you like my Mary Sue, and you totally understand the message I'm trying to put through with this story. I really hope you like this chapter, and if you don't, by god, tell me! Writing can only improve if you open up your eyes sometimes, or have someone do it for you. Thank you honey:)  
  
Any review is greatly appreciated! yes yes yes, haha.  
  
Oh man, it was sunny and hot outside just a few minutes ago and now its dark and the rain is pouring down. I don't understand the weather in my area...  
  
Oh! sorry, back to the story. I am going to post two chapters at once. At first I was going to post it as one long chapter, but then I loaded it on there and I was like "man this is long, people's attention spans are gonna go haywire and the words are going to blur..." so I decided to give y'all some breathing room and post it as two chapters.  
  
Tell me whether you guys like shorter chapters or really long chapters.   
  
Just as a reminder: whenever something is in italics, it's a flashback.  
  
And also, I'm not sure when disney world opened in orlando, I tried to look it up but i couldn't find it out. Im sorry if it's inaccurate LOL.   
  
On to the story....   
  
  
  
  
Light peeped through the drawn curtains and summoned her to waken. One dark blue eye struggled to open as a high voice reverberated throughout the petite house. Summer rolled over and pulled the sheets over her head.   
  
"Summer! It's time to wake up and go to school. Get your clothes on. I have your books ready, they're sitting by the front door!" The irritation verbalized all in one breath. Summer lazily pushed the heavy, white flowered sheets off her body and groaned from the night of sleep-or lack of it- that she had had. Before she knew it a piece of toast had been shoved into her mouth.   
  
"Honey, you need to have a breakfast. It's not healthy to go without a good, strong energizing meal to get you started in the morning." Her aunt gazed inquisitively at Summer as her eyebrows furrowed into a question mark. "It seems like you really need it dear," she stated briskly as she ran to prepare for the day.   
  
Summer took the piece of toast and removed it from her mouth. After enveloping herself in the clothes that hung behind the highly decorative double doors of the closet, she went into the bathroom. The hard, crusty piece of bread was thrown into the toilet and flushed away. She turned to the huge mirror that hung off the pastel wall. It was amazing, just how nontoxic the reflection was that bore back into her eyes. Ha. Little did they know the lifelessness that consumed the nucleus of her insides. How do you live, just how can you go through life, when you don't even feel comfortable in your own skin? The smooth skin that blanketed her interiors showed little struggle, no sign of resistance. 'But you didn't resist,' she told herself. 'It was all you, you wanted it too...' But did she? Did she really want it, was she really thinking with her own mind, or was it that sickness doing the talking? The sickness that had traveled through her body the first time that night, almost like the journey she was making from childhood to adulthood. But it was a rushed journey, reminiscent of the times when she had gone on trips with her Mommy and Daddy.   
  
_It was her first trip to Disneyworld, and Summer peeped out the window of their shiny silver car as they made their way through Florida. It was going to be fun, taking a trip to go see Mickey Mouse. Mommy and Daddy had exactly 18 hours to make it back before another really important political assembly. Summer had to go potty, really really bad. But she couldn't, if they stopped just for five minutes, or two, or even one, Mommy and Daddy would be off schedule. That wouldn't be a good thing, so Summer sat patiently in the car, gritting her teeth_ _and holding her stomach. After an hour of agonizing postponement, they finally arrived to the thriving, vibrant theme park. While in the huge park she could finally go potty because Mommy said the bathroom was right in the path of the next ride. After the bathroom Summer spotted Mickey Mouse and pleaded to Mommy to go see him.   
  
"No honey, I'm sorry. We have to get into the lines as early as possible, or we'll have to wait longer for the rides." Mommy grabbed a sack of cotton candy from a man selling it in the street, and shoved it into Summer's arms, as she wailed, tears forming in her eyes. "Here you go sweetie, cotton candy! That's better than Mickey Mouse, yes it is! You don't really want to see Mickey Mouse, do you?" Summer's eyes dropped to the candy, and she dug her hand into the soft pink mass that lay in the bag. _  
  
_"I guess not..." she replied, the sweetness delving into her tastebuds. They rushed from ride to ride, skipping lunch in a restaurant and devouring peanut butter and jelly sandwiches instead, while waiting in line for one of the rides. With exactly three hours to go Daddy headed the two of them back to the car, accelerating through the beautiful Florida landscape, making it just in time for Daddy to change and head to the political event. Summer never got to see Mickey Mouse. She never wanted to see Mickey Mouse anyway. _  
  
Summer ran her hands through her long shiny hair as she observed her reflection. Yes, she wanted it all along. Or did she? Summer didn't see the thread that was beginning to unwind. It hung from her elegant shirt. She couldn't see it through the mirror.  
  
  
  
  
Johnny rose out of bed and pulled on his soiled black shirt. He grabbed the black jeans that had been carelessly toppled across the sole scrap of furniture in the room. Well, it was one of two pieces of furniture in the room, if you considered the worn-out mattress laying atop a squeaky frame and four quavering metal legs an actual bed. The vanity had become dull and faded because it lay right in the path of the sun that leaked through the window. Morning light seeped through the window, and as he pulled on his slacks and t-shirt his big black orbs gazed into the reflection that lay before him. He hadn't slept since that night at the Curtis'. His hair was disheveled, a single piece drooping from above his forehead, stabbing into the big white part of his eye. He had bags creeping along under his eyes, but that was not as apparent as the huge purple sphere that was now a stain on his skin. The white scar, as bright as the sun seeping through the window, contrasted with the darkness of the bruise and of his ruffled clothing. Little did he know that a thread had become loose on the back of his shirt. A thread is so minute, so insignificant compared to the dirtied, tainted features of his clothes and of his own body. Yet a piece of thread, once it breaks the bond and hangs freely, will continue to unravel. The thread has no end.  
  
  
  
  
Summer impatiently scribbled in her notebook. She was stuck in chemistry class. Her eyes glided over those in the classroom, and she spotted a pretty red-head writing notes with a short-haired brunette sitting next to her. Like all the other students she hated the class and couldn't see at all how it pertained remotely to anything in her life. How did the people in her class even relate to her? They didn't know anything, they were all stuck in their little worlds of milkshakes and pompons. 'Just like I used to be,' she thought to herself. Could you really blame them for worrying over such trifling matters? What was so bad about that, I mean, isn't it so fun? Instead of walking the cracked, urinated black streets to school, you would simply walk out the door and jump into the new shiny car your parents gave you. You got it because you had worked _oh-so-hard_ on getting that "A" in English. The day before you had come home from a really, really hard day at cheerleading practice, your fiery red hair tied up into two little pigtails, cause that was the way to go nowadays. Last week's fashion trend of wearing your hair in a braid was so over with. You would gasp in surprise as you run to the car, and hop into it, forgetting to thank Mom and Dad for buying you the gleaming, glittery, cute little red car that was now yours. You would speed down the road, the top of the convertible down, pigtails and all blowing in the wind. While you cruised down the perfectly leveled, smooth and shiny cement, you repeatedly affirmed to yourself, "I so deserve this, I so deserve this."   
  
But Summer knew that there was more to it than what people saw, when the shiny red convertible whirred by them as they sweated on the roofs of one of the white picket-fenced houses, sore from carrying heavy loads up a ladder, working _oh-so-hard_ hard to get money that barely paid the rent. Make just enough money so that the social workers wouldn't deem them incapable of taking care of their little brothers.  
  
Summer knew that's how the roofers perceived her when she was younger, hanging in the house by herself because Mommy and Daddy had gone to another really important political assembly. She would listen to the rock and roll tunes on the radio, her only happiness coming from the excitement and the passion she felt as the lurid rhythms and melodies seeped through the household. The music drowned out the hammering that continued above as the roofers' backs and foreheads turned red from the intense rays.  
  
  
  
  
Soda perched the hood up to test the oil pressure of the car. He just kind of forgot to put the gauge on the oil pressure tester. His smooth brown eyes darted back and forth as he tried desperately to concentrate on the task at hand. The other guy that was helping Soda sat in the car. It was his first day on the job, and Soda wasn't exactly having the best luck with the sixteen year old...  
  
A few freshman girls had just walked down to the DX on their lunch break from school. The girls, while laughing and gibbering, had managed to settle themselves on the curb of the street opposite the gas station. Their attempt to stay inconspicuous wasn't quite working well, perhaps for the fact that they giggled simultaneously at every movement Soda made. Soda kept his head down and attempted to keep himself from grinning. He secretly enjoyed the attention he was getting, although he pretended to be completely oblivious to the chattering that could be heard throughout the neighborhood.   
  
Two-Bit, Steve and Pony sped down the street and rounded the corner practically on two wheels.   
  
"Yee-Haw!" Two-Bit screamed, flashing a crazy smile as the car dipped into a huge pothole. His car had broken down the day before, but he had managed to magically appear with another one just in time for lunch. Halfway to the Dingo Two-Bit suddenly remembered something.   
  
"Shit! I forgot about Soda!" he shouted as he hit the screeching brakes. Pony and Steve slammed into each other in the backseat as Two-Bit turned the wheel and headed back to the DX. They pulled up to the garage just in time to see Soda yell as a fountain of oil sprayed from the car and blasted him in the face.   
  
"Jay...when I'm testing the oil pressure you don't turn the ignition key..." Soda said through gritted teeth, trying to be a good sport with the newbie.   
  
"Gee Soda...sorry about that!" Jay apologized, a resisted smile breaking onto his face. Steve, Pony and Two-Bit howled with laughter, and the line of girls sitting on the curb snickered quietly amongst themselves with amusement. Soda, after staring straight ahead in shock for a few seconds, grabbed a rag and wiped the oil that was now dripping from his face. He watched as Steve climbed out of Two-Bit's so-called car.   
  
"But wait, didn't you forget to put the gauge on?" Jay hesitantly questioned. Soda peered into the car again, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips.  
  
"We obviously know what Soda got hired for," Steve teased as he nodded toward the line of girls on the street. Soda leaned coolly against the car as he cocked an eyebrow, acting out for the audience that was enjoying the show. Once again they all giggled in unison.   
  
"Well, well, well, lookie who's here, the three little school boys!" Soda taunted as Two-Bit and Pony soon followed Steve, a grin finally erupting on Soda's still-blackened face. Two-Bit's hand hovered around his back pocket, and he took a stance as if he were preparing for a fight. His eyes leveled Soda's as he asserted menacingly,   
  
"At least I ain't got a ton a filthy grease on face." He reached into his back pocket…and pulled out a comb. "I save that for my head!" he cackled as he ran the comb through his shiny, slick hair. Soda took a step closer to Two-Bit.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, and I save this fist especially for you. All the better to punch you with!" he threatened, waving his fist in the air.   
  
"Oh yeah?" Two-Bit threatened.  
  
"Yeah. And I mean it! I gotta protect myself from these filthy, rotten, lowlife hoodlums always stealin' my candy bars…" Steve looked on with an exasperated expression on his face, and let out a sigh.   
  
"Y'all, I think it's bout time we headed to the Dingo. Those lines get filled up pretty quick at lunchtime." Pony's stomach growled as a testament to Steve's words.   
  
"Yeah I'm pretty hungry you guys," he stated.   
  
"Ain't that the truth," Steve responded. Soda went to the bathroom to wash up as Jay took over. Two-Bit, Steve, and Pony combed extra grease through their hair. They wanted to look especially greasy for the Dingo. After Soda came strolling from the bathroom, they all jumbled into Two-Bit's car and headed off for milkshakes and hamburgers.   
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 4

Okay, chappie number 4...I hope you enjoy this one as well...  
  
Whenever something is in italics, it's a flashback, unless it is indented pretty far, then it's lyrics to a song.  
I need to elaborate on one thing...there are two different uses for lyrics that I have. If the lyrics are simply _italicized_, it means that the music is actually going on in the story. If the lyrics are **_italicized and in bold_**, the music isn't actually happening in the story, it's more that the lyrics fit with the story really well, and I added them in to the text. Kind of like a soundtrack to listen to while you're reading the story. It'll make sense when you read the story...  
  
One part of this chapter was inspired by a story called "Where are you going, where have you been?" Man, it's a cool story, i read it in literature a few weeks ago. The author is Joyce Carol Oates, if you guys like this chapter you should read the story.  
  
I hope you enjoy...  
  
  
  
  
Class was dismissed and it was time for lunch. As she rounded the corner and was about to step into the lunchroom, she did a double take. The lunchroom was crowded, a lot more crowded than her old school. Those who had gotten there the fastest had snatched the all the seats, and now there was nothing left. She tried to work her way through the crowd of people that were standing up, and could feel many eyes on her. Summer accidentally bumped into a girl and suddenly the girl's whole group was focusing all their attention on her. They were wearing madras jackets. The guys had Beatle haircuts, and Summer quickly sucked her breath in.   
_  
The boys had recently gotten haircuts that were becoming really popular. Looks to them were important, and the way The Beatles looked right now was pretty much the way to go. Even if you thought their haircuts were stupid as hell, you got it anyway. The girls stood with school books strategically placed into their delicate arms, chomping on gum, pink lipstick gleaming from their sweet, soft lips. One of them had golden blonde hair. As she passed by them she could hear them whisper with disgust.   
  
"Oh did you hear?..."  
  
"Oh my god!"  
  
She had fallen out of the mold. _  
  
Summer pushed her way through the lunchroom as fast as she could, and escaped the place. Her hands started to tremble and she cursed herself again for forgetting her cigarettes. She was leaving this fucking place. Summer hated school, hell, the irritation was so dumb she wouldn't figure it out anyway if she missed the whole damn year. She trotted down the front steps of the school and sauntered off down the street. Fucking stupid teachers.   
  
  
  
  
Johnny avoided school, he didn't feel like being the side show of school for the day. Yeah. Life sucked. Either you're totally invisible, or you're a freak that everyone gawks at. Besides he had woken up late and he woulda been late to school anyway. He heard a glass break in the kitchen, following some bantering that had been going on for a few minutes. He had to get out of the place, he had to leave. Before the front door, he noticed his jean jacket. He pulled it on, the ends of the collar turning up, a half-assed attempt to cover his tainted face. He stepped outside, sweat forming in his pores and seeping through his dark skin. He kept the jean jacket on.   
  
  
  
  
Summer aimlessly walked down the street, humming to herself as she kicked a stone that lay in her way. She could hear the lilting rhythm of a stereo nearby, and almost felt something flare up inside of her. A smile crept up from the corners of her mouth, showing a peek of her stainless white teeth as the music floated through the air...  
_**  
**In this dirty old part of the city  
Where the sun refused to shine  
People tell me there ain't no use in tryin'  
  
Now my girl you're so young and pretty  
And one thing I know is true  
You'll be dead before your time is due, I know  
  
Watch my daddy in bed a-dyin'  
Watched his hair been turnin' grey  
He's been workin' and slavin' his life away  
Oh yes I know it  
  
He's been workin' so hard  
I've been workin' too, baby  
Every night and day  
  
We gotta get out of this place  
If it's the last thing we ever do  
We gotta get out of this place  
'cause girl, there's a better life for me and you  
_  
The music crept closer until Summer could hear it right next to her. She glanced over to the car as it slowed down, and spotted four very greasy, punk little kids. Okay, so maybe they weren't **kids**, hell, some of them were probably older than her. But they sure did act like kids. She heard the honk of the horn, and the music was rapidly cut off. A guy with long sideburns smiled over at her while two others in the car howled with mischief.   
  
"Hey baby wanna come along for a ride?" he pestered. Summer took a longer look at the idiot that was driving the car, and suddenly remembered him from the day before.   
  
"Hey! You're that jerk that almost ran over me yesterday. Like I'm going to get into a car with someone who can't even drive two feet without killing someone." The two side-kicks roared with laughter, while the driver of the car stared at her with disbelief.  
  
"Come on! Don't tell me you're going to turn down the great swooner. Some chicks say I remind them of The King," he claimed as he cooly ran his hand along the side of his gelled head.   
  
"Ha! Better luck next time." Summer glanced at the others in the car. One was golden blonde, with a flashy smile that radiated off of him. 'I bet you all the girls go for that one,' she thought sarcastically to herself. There was one with thick dark hair, sculpted into complicated swirls, a warped laugh that twisted from the corner of his lips. He was sitting next to the blonde one, the two almost like a pair cut from a cardboard of cliches. They probably went along with everything the wisecracker did. Then there was...the quiet kid. That kid that she had run into via the halls. He seemed kinda nice, and younger than the others. What was he doing with these dumbasses?   
  
Summer heard crooked laughter, but this time it was coming from the dark alley that lay on the right side of her. The four in the car exchanged looks, knowing this wasn't the greatest situation for the girl. She turned her head she could see two lanky, foul creatures saunter from the darkness of the back street. Summer's eyes widened as they crept up closer and closer. She could almost smell the bad blood that circulated through their vicious carcasses, cruelness reflected in their slanted eyes. She knew the type.   
_  
She sat in the diner, sipping the delicious cola, sugar and caffeine rushing through her blooming figure. Her parents never let her have caffeine. Best friend Emily had come along with her, their bright pink lips glowing in the cheap light that shined down from the ceiling. Music blared from the inside of the restaurant, and the two cute little girls swung on the circular red chairs in synch with the energy that reverberated every single atom in their bodies. It felt surreal. They were just like those cool, older kids who would ride in their dazzling automobiles, laughter echoing throughout the town.   
_ _**  
With a boulder on my shoulder, feelin' kinda older  
I tripped the merry-go-round  
With the stereo pleasin' and sneezin' and wheezin'  
The calliope crashed to the ground**  
  
Summer leaned back and bobbed her head to the music. Now, right at this instant, she was living the dream that the tunes always promised her, the image of American vitality and youth. God, was this moment so perfect. God, was she so perfect. The walls her parents had put up around her became invisible. She stared straight up into the glow from the ceiling, her eyes pained a second-just for a second- before it illuminated her soul. She was feeling something she never knew was possible to feel. It was a jumble of sensations all at once: freedom, excitement, sensuality.   
  
**Mama told me not to look into the eyes of the sun  
But Mama, that's where the fun is…**  
  
She brought her right leg off the support of the chair and crossed her tanned, skinny little legs. Man, was her skirt short. Of course Mom would never buy something like that for her. Summer knew how to cut, Summer knew how to sew. Summer knew how to hide needle and thread in her bag before she went out. She also knew how to tie a shirt, make just a tad smaller. Not that much smaller, by God, she wasn't a tramp. Summer knew how to flirt, Summer knew how to tease. It was so easy, so **fun**.   
She was in tune with her body, with her mind. Everything was so clear.   
  
_ _**She got down but she never got tired  
She's gonna make it through the night**  
  
That was when she spotted him. He pulled into the parking lot, black hair and dark, crisp shirt. He climbed out of the black car, leaning against it with ease. There was something about him that was so…so rough. He was different than the kind of guys she knew that always hid behind a wall of aloofness. The kind of guy she knew was always clean. Always acting as if they were players in a game. Everything to them was politics, just how can you manipulate and twist and turn everything, everyone, someone, to get them to do what they want you to. In one way, he was the opposite kind of guy, the guy where his interiors had been ripped out, his rawness showing on the outside. A tattoo lined his upper left arm, he had a taut lean figure. Little did her callow, sweet little instinct tell her that despite the obvious difference, there was a major similarity. He was a master manipulator, the worst of his kind.   
  
He spotted her through the glass walls of the diner. He liked them like that. Fresh and pretty. Pretty. But most of all fresh. The friend with golden blonde hair was cute too. But her skirt wasn't as short, her hair wasn't as long. Her stare didn't catch his attention like the dark haired one.   
  
The music vibrated throughout the lot, singing its sweet, innocent melody. The voice, so bubbly, just like the fizz in the pop that was trickling through Summer's slim figure.   
  
_ _ The night we met I knew I needed you so  
And if I ever had the chance I'd never let you go  
So won't you say you love me  
I'll make you so proud of me  
We'll make 'em turn their heads  
Every place we go  
So won't you please…  
  
He smiled at her, handsomely crooked teeth migrating into the scope of her vision. He mouthed with the melody…  
  
_ _ "Be my, be my baby  
Be my little baby  
My one and only baby  
Say you'll be my darling  
Be my, be my baby  
Be my baby now  
Whoa whoa whoa"  
  
Summer blushed and brought her head down. Emily giggled along with her, images of pearly white teeth escaping their mouths and entering the pale blue circles of his eyes. That was her favorite song…_  
  
They were way past teenagerhood, tattoos and scars had bled onto their bodies. Four greasers in a car wouldn't get in the way of _these_ guys, shoot, they probably had heaters. They were thirty year old hoodlums, who had miraculously survived the perils of life. Angry at the way things were, angry at themselves. Angry at the fucking world. They would take their anger out on her, if she didn't get moving. Summer dashed to the car and through the door before the kiddie greasers could even react.   
  
"Go!" she yelled as the wise-cracker started up the car, surprise written all over his face, and sped off. For the first few seconds nobody said anything. Perhaps they were all surprised by the abruptness of her action? She was sitting in the backseat next to Pony, Two-Bit, Soda and Steve riding in the front of the convertible. Pony glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, her long hair thrashing about in the wind as Two-Bit intensified the speed of the T-Bird. She stared out her side of the car, observing the looks of the town she had just moved into a few days ago. Her face was dim and she was seemingly unaffected by the speed of the car.   
  
"So what were you doin' walkin' by you're lonesome, headed to the bad part of town?" Steve spoke, being the great silence-breaker that he is. "You ain't look the type to be paradin' down there, if you know what I mean." She kept her position, and didn't turn her head as she simply shrugged. Soda glanced at Pony through the rearview mirror, raising a questioning eye-brow, curiosity running rampant through his body. After a minute or so she spoke up,  
  
"I just moved here from Georgia. I didn't know where I was headed." she admitted. 'I didn't really care,' she thought to herself. Pony turned his head towards her, and knew there was more to her than what the other guys saw. He knew she wasn't telling the whole story...  
  
"Well just remember not to do that again, we wouldn't want purty little girl like you to be runnin' in the streets," Two-Bit asserted. They didn't see Summer roll her eyes...little did they know.   
  
_Did she ever really know where she was headed?_  
  
_ Just wait and see  
For every kiss you give me  
I'll give you three  
Oh, since the day I saw you  
I have been waiting for you  
You know I will adore you  
Till eternity so won't you please…_   
_  
  
  
  
Lyrics from The Animals "We Gotta Get Out of This Place"  
The Ronettes "Be My Baby"  
and _**_  
Manfred Mann "Blinded By The Light" _**  
  



	6. Chapter 5

Annndddd... *drum rolls* here's Chapter Number five! *audience claps*...Anndd don't forgot to review folks...  
  
Jkb: I just can't thank you enough for reading my story. I truly appreciate the reviews you give me, the specifics of your reviews and I will definitely continue this fic, if not for myself than most definitely for you!!! And it's cool how much you get out of my story, you totally understand it and you really notice even the little things that I put in there for the sake of the story. Even though Soda really does seem like a nice guy and everything, I was always bored with how people idolize him, so that's why I did it through someone else's eyes, other than just Ponyboy's eyes. And about the Johnny and Summer getting together thing...there are some things about it that are kinda up in the air right now, but you have predicted the correct path that I have in mind *smirks* you and Vampire-Slaying-Greaser-Gal both picked that up LOL. But shhhh I'm not giving it away...okay maybe I did just give it away. haha.   
  
MissLKidd: I hope you keep readin' it girl, I hope you like this chapter as well.   
  
Starstruck: It is so cool how everything you mentioned in the review is exactly what I was trying to portray in Summer, and these personality traits come out even moreso in this and the next chapter. I am glad you thought that the party and disneyworld scenes were grotesque and stunning, cause that's how I was trying to make them. Hey! BTW, glad you like the music:)  
  
I better do this every once in a while: I don't any of the characters except Summer, her parents, Emily, and **him**. Alright on with the chapter...  
  
  
  
  
Johnny kept his head down as he walked through the neighborhood, his feet crunching on the grass as he sat on the bench in the middle of the park. It was almost noon and the sun seemed to hanging right above him, taunting him to remove his jean jacket. He sat there for a while, each minute getting more and more painful. 'What is wrong with this weather?' he thought to himself while he ran a hand through his heavy mass of hair. The grease on his hand was almost as runny as water, mixed with the saltiness of his sweat. It was so hot and humid, and the sun was so strong, that nobody occupied the park. It was perfectly fine with Johnny.   
  
Oddly enough, despite the hotness that surrounded him and the light blaring down, Johnny had a pack of matches in his pocket. He dragged it out of his back pocket where it sat next to his switch, and pulled out the cigarette that he had tucked away in his jacket. As he lit up he could hear someone stepping on the crisp grass, but tried to keep his face downward as he blew the smoke out from his nose. The person sat right next to him, and Johnny's eyes grew wide as his heart started to pound. He still refused to look up.   
  
"Hey Johnnycakes," Dally spoke up. He took his cancerstick and held it in the scope of Johnny's vision so that he could light it up for Dally. "Why ain't you headed to the Dingo today?" Johnny's nerves slowly began to calm, a breath finally escaping his lungs. "I heard there was gonna be a good show there, Shepard is lookin' for this one dick, what the fuck is that guy's name? Oh yeah, sumthin like Mick or Mike or sumthin. Oh man when he runs into Shepard..."   
  
Johnny kept his head down, not responding to anything Dally was saying. Okay, so at first Dally didn't realize something was wrong, Johnny's a shy kid. But not looking up once, or responding at all?  
  
"Yo, Johnny, is something wrong?"   
  
Johnny meagerly shook his head, the cuffs of his jacket swaying along with the movement.   
  
"Why are you wearin' a jacket in this weather, Johnny?" This time Johnny shrugged, and he knew there was no way he could hide it anymore.   
  
"Lemme see your face," Dally commanded. Johnny would hate to show it to anyone, especially Dallas. But he just couldn't disobey him...  
  
He slowly rose his face, the bright rays shining into his glossy orbs. Dally caught a glimpse of Johnny's face, and it was almost as if he lost consciousness. His mind went somewhere else, and all he could see was bright red, thick red, deadly red, overtaking his vision. Dally could hear the pump pump pump of the blood in his ears. Suddenly he was thrown back from the alternate state of mind, his eyes now focused back on Johnny. He had to keep face for his friend. Nobody, no-fucking-body, was gonna worry him. Dally drew in harsh breath, trying to keep the shocked, disgusted look from creeping onto his face. He dropped his smoke to the ground, putting all his emotions into crushing the cigarette.   
  
He couldn't figure it out, he didn't know why the hell it bothered him so much. He had seen people in New York, their skulls cracked open and blood leaking from their exposed brains. The eyes...these dead people's eyes were the worst, staring straight ahead into nothing. Dilated pupils and huge crimson veins making a roadmap on the whites of their eyes...  
  
Pushing the rage down he rubbed Johnny on his back. Johnny winced, his teeth showing for the first time.   
  
"Oh no..." Dally commented, his voice turning softer, "your back too?" Johnny hesitantly nodded, Dally quickly drawing his hand from the tender area. Johnny could feel his eyes getting watery. 'No!' he pleaded to himself, 'no! not in front of Dally, damnit!' Johnny was suprised when Dally took the cigarette from Johnny's shaking hand, smoldering it on the ground while he soothed,  
  
"Shhhhh, it's gonna be all right, let it out."   
  
Johnny let it out.   
  
  
  
  
Not long after they pulled into a parking lot infested with teenagers. These were no normal teenagers. The Dingo was on the bad side of town, all the people hanging out there were greasers, hoods, JD's, whatever you want to call them. Of course you can't forget the girlfriends of these guys, they can't be ignored. The young ladies tottered into the restaurant with high heels and short skirts on, some of them with tight, black peddle-pushers. Thick red lipstick smothered their lips, mascara heavily applied to their eyelashes. Summer looked into the diner, memories overflowing her senses. Happy memories, but at the same time, that was where it all started. There was nothing that made her happy now, well, except for that one thing. The music was flowing from one of the cars in the parking lot, and Summer closed her eyes, reveling in the moment. A voice interrupted her thoughts.  
  
"Hey, girl, you wanna come in with us?" Two-Bit questioned, the other greasers already infiltrating into the diner. Summer sat in the car, not sure what to say. Well, she didn't have anywhere else to go, why not just kind of hang out with some kids for a few minutes? It had been such a long time since she had done that, such a long time since she wasn't alone...  
  
"Ummm," she wavered, finally coming to a conclusion. "Yeah, I guess I'll come in with you guys." Two-Bit cracked a wide smile.  
  
"Alright! Let's head in. You know," he admitted, sneaking a glance to make sure nobody was around to hear him, "I'd hate to see someone like you lost on this side a town anyways. You're safe with the four of us, don't worry." Summer followed, her gaze dropping to the ground. She never felt safe, no matter what the circumstances...  
  
Steve, Pony, and Soda had miraculously managed to find a table. The two best friends were blowing tiny pieces of spittled napkin at eachother through straws while Pony looked on, chuckling. Two-Bit ambled over to the table, Summer following his path. Most of the customers in the diner were so involved in their own conversations that they didn't even notice the non-greaser female that had entered. Still, some noticed and followed her with their critical eyes, eyes disapproving of the girl that had crossed into their territory. Summer felt some type of emotion building up inside of her. She felt so uncomfortable when people stared at her, observing, analyzing the skin she didn't even fit in. Skin that wasn't hers...  
  
The three greasers at the table looked up, confusion obvious in their body language. Steve cast an annoyed glance at Two-Bit. Oh well, that was Two-Bit for ya. The wisecracker just smiled and laughed it off, shrugging in the process.   
  
He was about to slide into the seat next to Pony, then suddenly remembered his manners. His mom had taught him a thing or two in that department...  
  
"Oh, shit, I'm sorry. Ladies first," he said as he backed away from the booth, his arms guiding her in next to Pony as her skirt came in contact with the cheap plastic. She scooted over in the ample seat until there was enough room for Two-Bit to slide in. Almost on call, the waitress stepped up to table, popping pink bubble gum while she fished out the small notepad in her checkered apron. The waitress was in her early forties, her dull blonde hair pulled up into a high and tight bun. Overapplied blush sat stale on her cheeks, her facial expression stiff with boredom.  
  
"Whadduya kids want?"   
  
Pony spoke up first, his stomach growling more and more often the longer he was deprived of food.   
  
"I'll have a chocolate milkshake, and a hamburger." The waitress unmotivatedly scribbled it down, waiting for the others to continue.   
  
"Make that two," Steve stated.  
  
"Make that three."  
  
"Make that four!" Soda shouted in a kid's voice as held up four fingers. The waitress cast a look of disbelief at the kids. Jesus...when was this ever gonna end? The hands on the clock were never gonna move fast enough for her taste. She turned her head to the sole girl at the table, the pink chunk inside her mouth rotating between yellow teeth as she waited for the girl's order.   
  
"Ummm, just give me a," she cast a look at Soda and Steve sitting in front of her, "a cola would be okay, I guess."   
  
_Her fingers were wrapped around the cold cola bottle as the song finished. He knew every word to the song. She never would have thought that a guy that looked like **him** would ever have anything in common with her_, _but alas, he did! She always thought those kind of guys only listened to that has-been with his stupid hip swivel. But no sirree, this was 1963 and the hood knew the fresh and glorius tunes from the new radio station._ _A new song started up inside the diner, and he raised his arms up in the air with a questioning shrug. She tilted her head to the side, not understanding what he was getting to. He pointed to her, mouthing the words,  
  
"You. Me. Together. Forever." Summer furrowed her eyebrows together, trying to figure out the words his lips were forming. As she realized what he was saying, she grinned from ear to ear once again. Emily giggled along with her.  
  
"Ooohh Summer he likes you..."  
  
He pointed his index finger straight at Summer, and summoned her with his finger.   
  
_**_ And go-cart Mozart was checkin' out the   
weather charts see if it was safe outside   
And little Early Burly came by in his curly wurly   
and asked me if i needed a ride _**  
_   
"Come. Out. Side." Summer suddenly felt kind of...strange. Wait, it wasn't supposed to go this far. Mom told her not to do this kind of stuff..Hey, **Mom** told her **not** to do this kind of stuff! She placed the bottle on the counter as she felt herself rising out of her seat. She knew she wasn't supposed to do it, she didn't really want to do it.   
  
"You. Know. You. Want. To." Did she really want to resist? Maybe she did, kind of, sort of, want to do it. She started to step through the glass doors, her surroundings turning into slow motion. It was sso wrrong. It wass sso thhrrillinngg.   
  
"Summer! What are you doing?" Summer's tiny shoes stepped onto the black asphalt, and he opened the passenger door for her. She stopped. She kicked a pebble that was lifelessly laying on the ground.   
  
"Mmmm, I dunno. If I want to go. With you." She tossed her long hair over her shoulder. Man, the July humidity was really pouring down on her. A single drop of sweat accumulated on her eyebrow. Summer rolled her shoulders back and her shirt rose just a tad bit, just enough to show her cute, tender, little belly button before it was covered as she rolled her shoulders forward again. His intense gaze met the scene of her bellybutton then rose to her face with a seductive smile.  
  
"Honey babe, what do you mean you don't want to go?" She started to play with a string of her hair, her pale lips pursing in such a cute little way.   
  
"I...I mean. Yeah, I dunno." This time he chuckled.  
  
"You're so cute, you know that?" Summer's cheeks and ears turned red.  
  
"Really? I still don't know if I want to go." He clasped both his hands over his heart, acting out as if he were in torment.  
  
"It would pain my heart, sweetie child. You're just so beautiful." The words rang like music in her ears, and it was almost as if morphine had been injected into her skinny arm. She felt alive for the very first time since she had been born. She never got attention like this, not from anybody. It made her feel so **wanted**__.   
  
**She was blinded by the light  
Revved**_ _**up like a deuce   
Another runner in the night**_  
_  
Her feet stepped one ofter the other mechanically on the black asphalt, until they lifted themselves up into the black car. _  
_   
_With that the waitress shoved the notepad back into her apron, pushing her fat arms through the crowd as her white shoes squeaked on the floor.   
  
There was silence again for a moment. Pony being the shy self he usually was, felt kind of uncomfortable sitting so close to someone he didn't know, especially a girl. She simply stared down at the table, and Pony glanced at her profile. He noticed the long eyelashes curving up, her tender red lips. Soda exchanged glances with Pony and Two-Bit, while Steve just let out an exasperated sigh.   
  
"So..." Two-Bit said, breaking the ice, "you said you're from Georgia. So, uh, why'd you'd move over here to Oklahoma?" She said nothing at first, finally answering,  
  
"Just because." Two-Bit gave off a nervous laugh, trying to make the situation a little better. Okay, just the little ounce of compassion he had for girls was coming back to him and blowing him up in the face. Still, an image of his sister came into his head...  
  
"So, uh," Two-Bit continued, "how you likin' Tulsa so far?" This time she didn't pause,  
  
"Just as bad as the town I come from."   
  
  
  
  
Johnny still sat on the bench, and after the emotions had somewhat been vented out, Dally stood up and turned to Johnny.   
  
"You feel like goin' to the Dingo?" Johnny didn't answer, he didn't want to be seen. He didn't want to be seen today, tomorrow, ever again. He wished he could just disentegrate into a pile of nothing. "Come on," Dally said, "it's okay. The guys are gonna be there. Fuck everybody else. You know how much they care for you. I know you hate to be alone. You won't be alone, I promise. I'll always be here for ya, kid." Johnny got up from the seat, and followed Dally as he started off toward the diner. Damn, Dally was always right...  
  
  
  
  
The waitress practically slammed the glasses down on the table. She then picked up each juicy hamburger, shoving them on the table to the rhythm of her gum chewing.  
  
"Uuummm, excuse me miss," Soda injected, "I wasn't the one who ordered the cola, she was." The waitress grabbed the milkshake in front of Summer and the cola in front of Soda, and dragged them to the correct position. Lastly she tossed some straws on the table, then walked away, not pausing to see if anyone needed anything. Summer dipped the straw into the bubbly liquid, and while it rose through the straw into her mouth, her head slightly bobbed to the music. Pony looked to his side, and could almost see a flicker of **something **in the corner of her eye. His concentration was broken when he saw a towheaded hood and a jean jacket-wearing greaser step into the diner. _Johnny's wearing a jean jacket in this weather? _  
  
Summer hadn't looked up, but her head popped up when she heard the familiar voice...  
  
"Hey guys, slide over, it's me and Johnnycakes comin' through." As Dally squeezed into the seat next to Steve, his eyes grew wide as he saw the long dark hair, and the eyes, those eyes...  
  
They both stared at eachother for a few seconds.  
  
"Uhh, somethin' goin' on I need to know about?" Two-Bit asked, half joking yet half serious. They broke the stare, Summer going back to sipping her drink and Dally changing the subject.  
  
"I heard there was gonna be a fight here today. You know I ain't gonna miss that stuff man. You guys hear about it?"  
  
"Oh I heard about that one!" Steve replied, seeming enthusiastic about something for the first time. "I bet you Shepard is gonna beat Dillard's head in..."  
  
Steve trailed off as he looked passed Dally over to Johnny. Everyone at the table directed their gaze to the gang's pet, who had obviously taken a beating the night before. Pony started to fumble around with the foam that was popping out of the cracked plastic seat, Soda suddenly finding his hamburger tasteless. Steve could feel that anger rising in him again, but like Dally, managed to suppress it for his friend. Two-Bit took a fork and started tapping it on the table.   
  
Summer's gaze drifted among the six surrounding her at the table, oddly feeling out of place. They wouldn't say anything about the kid's horribly bruised and swollen face. It wasn't like they didn't notice or anything.  
  
Something really freaked her about that black haired kid, too, made her feel repulsed. It reminded her, it reminded her of someone she couldn't quite place. But she hated looking at him, such a lame fucking site. God, the kid probably didn't even fight back. She knew it, she could tell. Summer felt uneasiness building up in her, she didn't know why the hell it was happening. The rage now that was overtaking her, except unlike everyone else she didn't know she was supposed hide it inside, for the sake of Johnny. **She** wasn't a part of the gang, **she** didn't know the secret code that ran through these six guys and the fact that youre not supposed to hurt little Johnny Cade. The anger was now bubbling to the surface. He was an easy target to let her anger out, just target some lame fuck and get **him** back...those dark eyes...  
  
"What the fuck happened to your face?" She blurted out, disgust radiating off her, her dark red lips pursed together. "You get in a fight or something? It looks hideous. Dumb hoods always picking fights for themselves..." bitterness ran through her voice, hatred in her eyes.   
  
Johnny dropped his gaze, his face concealed once again in the cuffs of the jacket. The table was dead silent. Suddenly he jumped up and ran through the double doors. A hand slammed down on the table, the drinks shaking along with the vibration. Suddenly the music stopped, and everyone in the diner had turned their heads toward the scene. Dallas's face was stark red.  
  
He woulda beat her up right then and there, oh man he would have, but he knew that Johnny needed him. Dallas rose his crooked index finger slowly, and pointed it towards her...  
  
"You. I'm gonna get you." He shoved himself off the seat and followed Johnny out of the diner.   
  
  
  
  
Johnny's footsteps pounded on the concrete as he ran from that place. He ran. As fast as he could. That wasn't enough, apparently, because Dally caught up to him. He slowed his pace, finally coming to a walk. Dally came up beside him, Johnny kicking a pebble that lay in his way before sitting on the curb which was on his house's street.   
  
"That bitch I swear..."   
  
Johnny simply stared at the crack that was in the asphalt. He felt so embarrassed. Sometimes he just felt like giving up. His life was so, so extreme or something. It was like, people completely ignored him, or thought he was completely disgusting, or even scary. Ha. What a laugh. Johnny Cade scary. He wouldn't even hurt a fly, if he didn't have to. But it was almost always like people always jumped around the issue. They see the gruesome scar on his face, a big fucking black bruise surrounding his eye, and it's:  
_  
"Hey Johnny!" _then the uncomfortable silence._ "Uhhh..hey! You...you're lookin' good, Johnny Cade." _Johnny would always crack a forced smile, hey, nothing was wrong at all!   
  
Yeah right.   
  
This time someone went straight to the issue, hit it right on its fucking head, just as he head been hit the night before. Strong and direct. It was so goddamn embarrassing, but...it was so goddamn real. She didn't tiptoe around the issue, she didn't dillydally and put on a fake smile. She was still a bitch. But a real bitch. Johnny started slipping the jean jacket off, hell, why wear something not fit for the weather? His embarrasment kind of started to subside...yeah...who really did give a fuck about others?   
  
Johnny smiled, it was a smile that was finally different. Genuine. _For once he just, he just..._  
  
"I'm gonna get her for you Johnny, don't worry man. That prissy piece of shit is never gonna mess with you again."  
  
"No, Dally, it's okay. She was just stating what was, you know. Just telling the truth. Just..."  
_  
...Let go. _  
  
**  
  
  
Lyrics by Manfred Mann "Blinded by the Light" ... it's funny, i just found out that Bruce Springsteen originally wrote and recorded that song, and I listened to it, and it sounds totally different than the version Manfred Mann did. So should I say lyrics by Bruce, or Manfred? The Manfred Mann one fits the story much much better. Not like you guys care anyway LMAO! ;) **  
  
  



	7. Chapter 6

Okay you guys, here is Chapter number 6. It's not as long as most of the other chapters, but hopefully the next chapter will make up for it! I already have a lot of it written, but it's not ready yet so I am just going to go ahead and post this.   
  
MissLkid: Once again thanks so much for keeping up w. my story girl! I am hoping that you will like this chapter also. I can't wait for the next update of "My Old New York Friend."   
  
Jkb: Honey, don't worry about your rambling, you can ramble as much as you want! I love your reviews and how specific you are, I am really flattered that you like my writing! And don't worry, it was a great review:) I could never imagine people taunting and teasing you, because you are so sweet! *kisses jkb on the cheek* I hope you like this chapter as well, and I've already written a lot of the next chapter, so as soon as it's ready I'll put it up. Are you planning on putting up another Outsiders fic? Let me know if you are...  
  
Okay, once again, if any-old-body is reading this story, even if you don't feel like reviewing, just friggin put a tiny two or three word sentence to let me know that people are actually reading the story, something like "Hey good story" or "Reading it"...LOL. Im really serious though...  
  
Anyhow, here's the story...enjoy reading it (I hope)   
  
  
  
  
The diner was still silent after Dally ran out. Summer sat rigid. Her anger had not been released when she had insulted the black-haired kid. It didn't feel good like she thought it would. No, now it was just building and building. Ever since **that** night Summer had felt rotten on the inside, just a living and breathing carcass that carried a whole lot of weight on its shoulders. One painful memory became her life, she repeated and repeated that night, not only in her mind, but also in her actions. Just how long can you suppress what's boiling underneath the surface? She was now realizing that she couldn't handle herself anymore, it was taking on a life of its own. She wouldn't be able to hide it anymore...  
  
Everyone in the diner was now aware of the dark-haired non-greaser girl who had just gotten a little taste of the infamous Dallas Winston. They were all staring at her, the insecurities crawling beneath her smooth surface. She could feel the rapid pace of blood and adrenaline pouring through her. It was so uncomfortable to have tons of people staring at a figure that doesn't even feel like your own, although that's what they judge you by. She couldn't be released from the air that was suffocating her_. _The four greasers surrounding her stared at her puzzled, tons of emotions apparent in their faces...anger, confusion, uncertainty. The blonde one looked more hurt than angry, the young one looked uncomfortable. The one with rusty-colored sideburns just looked shocked, but the one with the complicated swirls, he had a cynical snarl on his face.   
  
After a few seconds the music started up and people slowly started to add to their conversations. Steve was the first one at the table to speak up.  
  
"I knew this wasn' t a good idea," he cast an angry glanced at the 18 year old, _"Two-Bit."_ Two-Bit simply sat there, okay, he knew he had fucked up when he brought this girl along. He was only trying to help her. Damn Steve. Steve was always right on target with this kind of stuff "Sweetie, you better believe he's gonna getcha. He's gonna getcha good. Don't you have any sense in you? You don't attack people you don't even know..." his voice continuously growing louder and louder.  
  
"Hold up!" a voice that had barely said anything was now speaking up. "Yes, it was mean, okay? Just leave her alone." Pony cast a glance at the girl sitting right next to him. "That was really coldhearted of you. You have no idea what he's been through. Just...leave now before it gets worse." Summer and the three other greasers sat there dumfounded. Okay, the kid didn't speak up much, but man, when he did...  
  
It was such a different feeling for Summer, nobody had really told her off like that before, not in front of her face like that. Two-Bit shifted off the seat, letting her climb through. She left the restaurant in a daze. One sentence rang in her memory. _You have no idea what he's been through._ Yeah, well, they had no idea what **she** had been through. Nobody ever cared about **her**. Damn that black-haired kid, he had friends who actually stood up for him, no matter what. _No matter what_.   
  
  
  
  
Dally wandered the streets, he needed some alone time to think. Johnny was acting a little...strange now to say the least. How could he just forget something so quickly, forgive that girl who had insulted him in front of all his friends? The kid himself needed to learn a thing or two about surviving on the streets. He just needed some common sense, Dally could help him with that. He wished Johnny weren't so sensitive, so...selfless. He never blamed others. Johnny had told him to forget about the whole thing, but Dally just _couldn't_. He could never, _never_ forgive someone who crossed him or his friends like that. Dallas would never learn to let go.   
  
  
  
  
Summer made it back to the school before the irritation would be there to pick her up. She had walked the whole way. Classes had ended a few minutes ago, and the buses were peeling out of the parking lot. Those who had cars sped out of there as fast as they could. Summer sat on the brick foundation in the entrance of the school, some other kids, mostly freshman, hanging around waiting for their rides.   
_   
"We're gonna go along for a ride, sweetie."  
  
She looked over with her big blue eyes as he climbed into the drivers seat. __The car peeled out from the squared parking lot of the diner. They moved farther and farther away from the suburban neighborhoods, further away from the straight and perfect streets which formed a rigid line that infiltrated into everything in her life.  
__   
As Summer observed the fleeting scene of the diner, memories clouded her thoughts: all the times she had sat in her room alone, observing and analyzing those who didn't think twice about what went on around them. Those who seemed perfectly content with their little paper doll lives. Summer would peek outside the window, watching the platonic families as they rode by, a dog hanging its head out the window with its tongue sticking out, while they drove on their way to school and work. Summer would look at herself in the rectangular mirror, tracing the contours of her face. A vision would always flood Summer's mind of herself in the future, a thirty-year-old housewife, in a checkered yellow apron. Her long, flowing hair would be butchered into a short poofy doo. Her slim arms with perfectly painted nails would be setting the table with peas and mashed potatoes, and her face with a huge fabricated smile for her husband who had just gotten home from an oh-so-hard day at work. The dullness of her eyes that were surrounded by long sleek hair would never change, oh no, it would never change. __Huge, innocent, yet shallow eyes that had never experienced real life.__ The only thing that would be different is the fact that the lifeless eyes would now be surrounded by an exaggerated hairstyle.   
  
Summer knew that she was stepping in line with thousands of other boys and girls to be the same entity, to follow the image of the All-American idealistic family. She was going to be just like everybody else who walked within the boundaries of everyday suburban life. __The voices of survivors of horrible circumstances on the radio would echo in Summer's ears. The heroic story of how they almost died, but were given a second chance, and now they didn't take life for granted. It was always resounding in her ears, "Appreciate your life, life is a gift!" But how could she appreciate life when she wasn't living? __  
  
Her observant orbs examined him from the side. A tiny scar lay above his eyebrow, his crooked fingers lay coolly across the steering wheel. It was almost as if the digits were trying to display an act of assurance. Hey, look at us on the steering wheel! We're cool, everything is going smoothly. Ignore the fact that we are crooked...  
  
"Where are we going?" she heard her little voice question. The corners of his flat lips rose into a twisted smile.  
  
"Just you wait and see, honey babe. You are going to like it, mmmm are you going to like it!" __She looked out the window as they went east of the DX gas station, the landmark that seperated the good side of town and the bad side of town. He continued to drive deeper and deeper into the forbidden territory. __The streets started to curve: there was a lack of uniformity about them. Summer could feel her stomach twist and turn as she shifted from side to side in the seat. Poverty has no orderliness, the buildings aren't flawless and polished, they are so far from perfect. She observed the weathered buildings that shone under the bright light of the car's headlights. The strict boundaries slowly started to melt away. Nobody planned for the structures to slouch, the road to be chipped and faded. That was what was so great about it. It wasn't planned.   
  
Summer was still riding high on the intoxication of being let free. She was finally breaking loose from the straight metal bars that had held her down her whole life. She wasn't going to step in line, and follow the straight, calculated path.__  
__   
He took his gaze away from the road, and focused intently on her darling little orbs. __His eyes were so yellow; she hadn't noticed that before.__ Not the paleness of his spheres, but the big part surrounding them that's supposed to be clear and shiny and pure. Summer's hands started to turn clammy and her heart started to pound ever so slighty.__ Summer wanted to tell him 'Stop! Drive me back. Let me out. Take me back to the diner where Emily waits for me.' But instead she found herself compelled by what sat right outside the window of the car as they zoomed by.__She knew Emily wouldn't be there waiting for her when she got back. _  
_   
They drove on in silence for a few more minutes, until suddenly Summer saw a figure jump out in front of the car, the car swerving out of the path to avoid the woman who had run in front of it. Summer's side of the vehicle slammed into the metal garage door of a warehouse that lay out of the path of the road and she cried out as her forehead hit the window. The indent on her chest burned from the seatbelt while her heart slammed into her rib cage. The whole front hood of the car had been popped open, and as Summer brought her hand up to her forehead she felt something thick dripping from her forehead. She could feel her hands start to shake. Between her fingers lay a red, slick, disgusting fluid. Nausea consumed her, but that was not what scared her the most. The figure who had dived in front of the car was now rabidly knocking her fist on the windshield of the car. __She was an extremely malnourished woman, the top half of her body naked, the breasts drooping down on her chest. Her blond hair was cheaply dyed and black roots were showing. Lipstick had been carelessly applied, straying off the edges of her lips and curving onto the wrinkled skin that surrounded her mouth. The mascara was so heavy that it caked on her eyelashes. He stepped out of the car in a blind fit of rage.  
  
"Damn whore! What the fuck were you doing? You ruined my car!" The woman backed up as her legs shown into the brightness of the left headlight. They were scattered all over with spider veins and varicose veins. Skin hung loosely from her bones, and scabs were dabbled all over her stickly arms. Her pupils, her black pin-sized pupils, looked on to him under droopy eyelids. As the woman opened her jaws to speak, Summer looked on in horror as she looked into the blackness of the mouth, one sole tooth hanging from the woman's top gum. Summer felt the bile rising up in her throat, the cola she had drinken earlier spilling onto her lap. This whore was run down, as run down as the structures that surrounded her. _  
_  
"You got some smack baby?" she slurred_, _bringing her sickly hand up to his arm while she attempted to smile. Summer gripped the handle of the door and watched with terrified eyes as he kicked the woman, knocking her down onto the street.  
  
"Get the fuck away from me you nasty bitch!" He continued to kick her, her fragile frame breaking under his weight. He pounded his foot into her chest, her sides, her head, his anger endless as he beat the woman into unconsciousness. "Serves you right for ruining my car you good for nothing old lady." As his fit of rage died down he remembered who sat in the passenger seat, and as he looked to her she was now shaking like a leaf. He glided through his side of the car, bringing his hand to her face. "Oh Baby, look what she did to you!" He traced her jawline with rugged fingers, his thumb caressing her cheek. "Oh sweetie, ain't you a dainty little thing! Don't cry, my baby, don't cry, it's all going to be okay." He cast her a smile with his contorted teeth, bringing his lips up to her cheek.  
  
Summer felt a rush of incontrollable emotions, emotions she had never felt before in such an extreme manner. 'Wait!' she called to herself, 'this is too much! Too many emotions, I am feeling too much. I am not used to feeling. Stop it! Stop!' But the coldness of his hands to her sweating skin, the warmth of his lips as he kissed her moist cheek...it made her delirious. _  
_  
"Sweetie, step out of the car and come along with me for a little walk. Forget the damn car! Walking is just as nice." She hesitated, her conscience screaming in protest. But it wasn't really his fault that her forehead was bleeding, and the addict lay beaten on the ground. Hey, the woman had asked for it, right? He didn't really mean to kick her that hard, over and over again. __  
  
Is this really what she wanted? She stared down at the spew on her lap, imagining the square checkered apron laying across her legs. Yes. This was definitely what she wanted. _  
  
The sun was now hanging low because it was the afternoon, and the orange rays touched her light skin. The longer she waited for her aunt to pick her up, the longer her skin was exposed to the intense sun. Her chest, face, and arms started to turn red, her dark hair burning up. She observed the red blotches flourishing on her chest and started to feel a bit shaky. She had always thought that if she managed to look okay on the exterior, if she brushed her long, shiny hair and wore her elegant clothing, somehow, just somehow, she could fool herself into thinking that everything was okay. If others didn't know, she didn't have to know herself just how she felt inside. It was something her parents inadvertently taught her. Mom, always with her poofy yellow dresses and Dad with his business suits and polished shoes. Just put on a smile, and everything's okay. What if she didn't feel like putting on a smile?   
  
It was like she couldn't handle it by herself anymore, outside forces were taking over and tainting her body without her permission. _Stop! Hey, I didn't tell you you could do this! _Or maybe it was forces not from the outside, but from inside of her. Everytime she thought about the incident that had happened in the diner a few hours ago, her breathing slowed to a lethargic pace and she could feel the bile rising up in her throat. All of those eyes, like tiny red glowing rats' eyes, rabid eyes, observing, analyzing her, tearing her apart. Not approving of the face she put on in the morning.   
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 7

Hey you guys! Yes, I know, finally after...almost 2 weeks I have the next chapter. My summer college class started a week ago, so from now on I won't be able to update as fast as I was before, but don't worry because I try to work on this story as much as possible, i love writing it. So basically its not going to be that bad of a delay, just not as quick as before.   
  
Jkb: I cherish your reviews, and Im so happy that someone likes my story so much! And....guess what? I did write a certain portion of this chapter because of your request! I really hope that you like it...there is a bit of a reference to what you told me in your review in that little section, I think you'll see what I'm talking about. I used to be friends with this girl that everybody hated when I was in middle/high school, so I'm putting a little bit of my experiences in this chapter. Actually, it wasn't that I actually experienced these things, but it was the vibe I got from people whenever I befriended this girl, and the hypocrisies I saw in teenage/high school life. Im getting philosophical here, LOL! Ooohh and you called me sweetie, that was so....sweet!!! LOL. *gives jkb a big hug* You are really the sweet one though. :)  
  
Starstruck: For a writer like you to tell me that my story is brilliant makes me WAY beyond flattered! Thank you so much for saying that, it really made me happy:)  
Oh, and also, Im glad you don't feel sorry for Johnny in a cheap way, I am glad that I don't appear to be making the parts with Johnny tacky or melodramatic or anything like a soap opera haha. I hope you like this chapter as well...  
  
Ivoine: Wow! what a compliment! It's cool that you like the changing POV's, i am happy that you like the different sides these characters are coming from. I hope you keep reading it:)  
  
MissLKid: Hey Auri! I hope you are having/had a wonderful birthday! (Im not sure when youre going to read this)...I love doing the RP with you, when you read this chapter, I am hoping you will like it!  
  
I found it interesting and actually pretty cool how Summer seeing herself in the future got comparisons to a Stepford wife and also a caricature by Ralph Steadman written down. I actually didn't know what a Stepford wife, or who Ralph Steadman was, but I looked them up and I was like "Whoa...cool comparisons!"   
  
Another thing, if any of you guys read my previous chapter within the few hours after it had been updated, I did go back and change some of the grammar mistakes and I made the sentences flow a little better, but there's really not that much of a change.   
Anyhow here is the next chapter!...you all know the dislaimers so...Im not repeating them again  
  
  
  
  
Summer continued to wait for her aunt as she burned under the intense sun. _Oh great,_ Summer suddenly remembered, _she told me she wasn't going to be able to pick me up today._ She silently cursed herself for forgetting to take the bus, and now she was going to half to walk across half the town to get to where the neighborhood was located. _I don't even remember how to get to the damn place._ After pondering for a few seconds, she decided to leave the school as fast as she could and just go somewhere else. Maybe she'd figure out what to do in a nice, cool place where she wasn't frying like an egg on a stove. Somehow the heat always interfered with her thinking, it was the intensity of it, the harshness of it all. She started to retrace the steps she had made previously, but the image of what had happened earlier that day made her decide against it. Summer found herself walking in a different direction, and she wasn't completely sure where exactly she was going, but it was better than sitting and doing nothing. She hated to hang around and twiddle her thumbs; it always gave her too much time to think. Too much time to remember, too much time to imagine what's going to happen in the future. She always had to keep busy somehow. Don't feel, don't think. _Don't remember_. Well, she was rotten inside anyway, right? There isn't anything to think or feel. _Or relive._   
  
She walked for about a mile before she felt the cool breeze coming from a small eatery. Summer paused for a second, smelling the aroma of home-cooked chicken soup and buttered bread. Her eyes roamed to the top of the building where a sign hovered above: _The Greasy Spoon Saloon: Homecookin' for the Southern Soul._ She could feel her the acid in her stomach starting to churn as she walked into the diner. The restaurant had a few men towards the back who had probably just gotten off work. They were chomping on big meals and guzzling down beer after beer, man were they going to be ripped before they left the place! After Summer stepped up to the front counter, a heavy-set woman with bright auburn hair and a pink, fluffy apron turned around and smiled at her. She had lively green eyes and naturally rosy cheeks, with dark blue eye shadow that glittered on her eyelids.  
  
"Hi honey," she crooned in a southern accent, "what are thinkin' about eatin'?" Summer realized she didn't have any money as a muscular man with dark brown hair entered the diner. It was obvious he had been outside all day, his arms were turning red and his nose and cheeks were flushed from the heat. "Hey sweetie! How's your day been so far?" the waitress greeted him, giving a motherly hug to the man who was now sitting in the seat next to Summer. The scent of hard, physical work escaped the man's body and entered into Summer's nostrils.   
  
"Hi Mrs. Matthews," the man replied, taking out a wallet from his back pocket. "Oh...it's the same ol' same ol'. Roofing a house in the new neighborhood that's going up way over on the west side of town." He wiped the sweat off his forehead, then ran his hand atop the cowlick that sat straight up despite the moisture in his hair. "Whew! The heat shouldn't be coming along this early in the year. I'm not used to the humidity either. Since when has it been like this in February, over here in Oklahoma?"  
  
"I don't know, darlin', I just don't know. At least I'm lucky enough to be working in the AC, although sometimes we ain't that lucky because it breaks down every once in a while." Right after the woman finished her last word, the group of men in the back roared with drunken laughter. Summer stifled a laugh at the amusing sight; the man seemed way too serious for his own good, and the woman didn't even seem to notice. She probably got customers like that everyday.   
  
"I may know some people who can fix that for ya, Mrs. Matthews. But I gotta get outta here fast, unfortunately, because Soda and Pony are waiting for me to pick them up." Summer's eyebrows furrowed together, a questioning look running through her features. _Who the hell would name their kids Pony and Soda? Must be nicknames or something, they HAVE to be nicknames._   
  
"Is something wrong sweetie?" the waitress questioned. Summer realized that both the man sitting next to her and the waitress had caught the curious face she was making.   
  
"Oh no! Im sorry ma'am, I just remembered that I didn't bring any money with me. Um, I guess I'll go now," she started to rise as her stomach let out a ravenous growl.   
  
"Wait!" the man sitting next to her commanded. "Don't worry about it, I'll pay for you. It looks like you need some food in your stomach," he said.  
  
"And meat on your bones," the southern woman added. After pondering for a few seconds, she spoke up. "No listen you two, it's on the house," she whispered, sneaking a glance to see if her boss was around. Something about the woman's gestures seemed really familiar to Summer, but she couldn't quite remember where she had seen it before. _Nah..._ Summer thought to herself, _it's just my mind playing tricks on me._ "Just don't say anything or I'll get my butt fired!" the waitress continued to whisper. "Ellie, get some okra and catfish started. Sweetie, here's the menu, you can have anything you want on it."   
  
"Oh no!" Summer exclaimed, "I really cant take this for fr..."   
  
"Shhhh!" both the roofer and the waitress quieted her at the same time. Summer complied and sat down; she couldn't resist the smell that infiltrated the diner.   
  
"So," the man said in an overprotective voice, "tell me what you're doing on this side of town. It's not the safest place to be. Are you new to Tulsa?" A few seconds after the words escaped his mouth, Darry silently reprimanded himself for being so rude to this little girl. He just couldn't bear to see a nice young girl like her get hurt. "Excuse me for being so rude, I can't believe I didn't introduce myself! My name's Darrel, you can call me Darry." Summer hesitantly shook his hand, she wasn't so sure if she could trust him or not. But...something about this man seemed to tell her that she could trust him.   
  
"I'm....I'm Summer. Yeah, um, I'm new. Am I in the bad part of town or something?" Darry pointed his fist to the left, a piece of warm, buttered toast placed in it.   
  
"If you were headed that way, you were goin' to the part a' town where no white folks welcome, you catch my drift?" Summer tried to understand what he was implying, coming to a sudden realization.   
  
"Oh...OH! Yeah, I actually _was_ headed that way. I had no idea." Summer continued to look over the menu, when something caught her eye. "Excuse me Miss, would you mind if I had some...some ribs?" The waitress's eyes lit up.   
  
"Absolutely! That's the best dish we got here, actually, we happen to have some fired up on the grill already. I'll get it drenched in some BBQ sauce for ya. I know you'll want some turnips to go with that. " Summer smiled ever so slightly, and leaned back in her chair. It was nice to have people who were being genuine for once, who were being decent to you simply because they were decent people themselves, not because they wanted something from you. As the red-head placed the meal in front of her, Summer brought the ribs to her lips. Her eyes rolled backward in pure enjoyment, this was the best food she'd ever tasted in her life! Summer cast a big grin at the woman, warm sauce all over her teeth.   
  
"Ahhh I see you like it." Summer nodded in agreement, shoving some of the turnips into her mouth hungrily.  
  
"It's...it's great."   
  
"That's what I've been told," the waitress commented, looking at Darry.   
  
"Yes Mrs. Matthews," he agreed, "this is the best little restaurant in Tulsa. I wanna keep it all to myself!" he joked. After Darry gulped down his catfish in seemingly one bite, he rose from the chair. He walked to the door, then stopped and turned around.   
  
"You know," he said to Summer, "you remind me of a kid I know. Great kid, by the way. Parents don't like him none, but he's one of the best kids I know. Thanks, Mrs. Matthews. One of these days Two-Bit is gonna get a job and help you out," he said, laughing. "You deserve it!" _Pony, Soda...now Two-Bit? They are nicknames...for sure. And I remind him of someone? That's kinda strange…_ He stepped out the door, Mrs. Matthews laughing along with him.   
  
"That's the day I'll die from shock!" the waitress said as she began to wipe the counter. "Ohh, that's my son for ya." she added, her eyes lighting up. After finishing the counter, Mrs. Matthews took the empty plate from Summer. "You're lookin' better, sweetie. How did it turn out?" she stopped chomping on her last bite of food long enough to answer back.   
  
"It's...it's the best meal I've ever had in my life!" Summer exclaimed, excited about something for the first time in forever.  
  
"Can't go wrong with some soul food."   
  
  
  
  
Big black eyes watched as Dallas stumbled off, probably looking for a fight or some action to rid himself of the energy he had built up. Johnny ran his hand along his damaged face, feeling the swollen bruises, the elevated lacerations. He was going through all these different moods now; the first: release, the second to come: cynicism. One small hit had formed a crack, and now millions of cracks were going to tear throughout his whole entire being. He was beginning to realize who he was, not just who he appeared to be. Letting go comes with consequences, you drop the facade you've been playing for years. Johnny wasn't going to act anymore, he couldn't pretend and hide all the time. Pretend like they were just physical scars.  
  
He started roaming down the street, the smile turning into a grimace. He could feel the tears building up, threatening to bleed through his eyelids, but he managed to keep them down. Johnny truly believed that he was born into this world for the sole purpose of being battered. He was meant to be abused, kicked and punched, and pounded.   
  
He would be beaten so much that one day his body would be smashed into scattered pieces of bone and membrane. His eyeballs would roll to a stop on the ground. Someone would unknowingly trample over them with a shiny loafer, its hard sole flattening them into scrambled tissue. His black pupils were the stained yolk, the rest of his orbs the egg whites. It would cook right there on the street under the intense sun. Someone would pick the scrambled mess off the black concrete, while it was still sizzling from the heat the hardened ground gave off. They would shake their little glass bottle of Heinz 57 ketchup. After taking the cap off, they would continue so properly by tapping on the cute little _"57_,_"_ which lay right on the circle where the neck of the bottle meets the barrel of the bottle. The technique was most certainly guaranteed to get the red contents moving; it was a little trick Mommy had taught them! Sauce would come pouring out, the eggs now drenched in the bright crimson liquid. They would pile it all up onto their fork, chewing on the rubbery red and yellow contents that tumbled inside their mouth. Hey! He _was_ good for more than one thing after all!  
  
Johnny saw himself as a sidewalk to be stepped on, a target to be paddled and stabbed and beaten. Over and over and over again. He did not have any say in the matter, it was a predetermined destiny, his only reason for existence. The boy was a vent for others, except the air was flowing the wrong way. The dust in the air seeping through the vent was building up on the metal strips like plaque, until it would harden one day beyond repair. No air would be able to come through anymore, resulting in an unremarkable death. He would be buried beneath the surface of the cemetery dirt where the grass refuses to grow and the headstones sit limply, tired and wearied and bored. His tiny, fist-sized, square-shaped headstone would simply be labeled "John Cade," passers-by stepping on the ground above his decaying body without any thought. He was just a nobody in life, a nobody in death.   
  
Maybe a more glorious death would be that of suicide! He would push back the sleeves of his jean jacket and slit his wrists, the blood pouring out all over the school halls. People would run around him, screaming, crying, falling to their knees on the slick surface of the hallway, the dark red fluid crawling, reaching out towards them. It would almost touch them, but they would back away, their perfect, buckled shoes barely escaping the thick liquid that had spilled. Everyone would be so shocked, so freaked out, that they would forget to call an ambulance. Oh well! He was doomed to die anyway, right? He would just bleed away until his face and arms turned stark white, the embarrassing scar that traveled from temple to chin blending in with the shocking whiteness that had now overtaken him. All the fluid in his body would have poured out by this time, existing in his veins no more.   
_   
It was so horrible!_ The school kids would say to their Mommies and Daddies when they got home. _Please help me, the image is now etched into my brain!_ Mommy and Daddy would cuddle them, poor little boy, poor little girl who had seen such a sorrowful sight. This world truly has gone mad!  
  
Lots of attention would be bestowed upon the boy who had so meaninglessly taken his life, who had so much to look forward to but now would never live a day past sixteen. His funeral service would be gigantic, everyone from the high school there, the press circled around the crowd with cameras and microphones and recorders. You can't forget the little camera guy that would snap still-shots of the event to put up in the school hall right above the floor where the kid had slain himself. _Aha!_ The camera guy would come to an epiphany while snapping shots of the shiny coffin, a light bulb going off above his head. _Maybe I could list it on my resume for National Geographic!_ Johnny's tombstone, instead of being small and insignificant, would stand ten feet high from the grassy surface. It would be sponsored by the mayor, and it would say: "Here lies poor little Johnny Cade who took his own life. He is now headed straight to Hell for being so selfish. This is an example to all you young impressionable teenagers out there! Don't do it!" A sketch of a hand would lie on the headstone below the epitaph, giving a gleaming thumbs-up sign. Written underneath the drawing in a semicircle it would give the inspiring, powerful message: "Choose life!"   
  
At his huge funeral service, people who had not even noticed him before in the school halls would now be gathered around his grave. They would emit cries full of grief and sorrow, grief for a kid they never knew anyway. In front of the camera for the 6 o' clock news, girls in pigtails with tears streaming down their cheeks would speak of the horrible tragedy that had happened to cross into their own little lives. "That poor little kid," they'd say, "I used to pass him all the time in the hall." They'd leave out the part that they would stick their noses up in the air, his small frame out of the range of their site. His books would spill onto the floor after he tore open his locker, in the same manner as the blood that had spilled out from his dying body. But the books the rich kids in the hall never noticed. Back then they never helped him pick up the contents that had poured onto the floor, help him pick up the shattered pieces that lay beneath them. It was only now they noticed, but now was too late.  
  
The attention would shift from the few hours of splendor the dead boy had been bestowed, his jaded stardom now fading out. The fame would now carry on to the teenagers who were in the hall that day, who were now suffering from the sight they had been exposed to. The horrifying experience of seeing someone's insides pouring out, their untainted skin barely escaping the blood on the floor, would now leave a mark on them forever.   
  
No spotlight would be focused on the real companions who had just lost a gang member, a friend. A good fucking friend! They didn't feel like crowding in front of the cameras. No one ever cuddled them when they saw the blood that had poured out of their friend numerous times before that final incident. They didn't let it out like the privileged kids could, they weren't allowed to. They had always kept it inside, for the sake of their friend, and also because of the unwritten rule that greasers are supposed to be tough. Greasers take care of themselves, greasers don't go crying to Mama, that is, if they are lucky enough to have one. Misplaced anger, now resulting in misplaced fame. Johnny was the medium these two things were filtered through.   
  
  
  
  
Summer walked out of the crispness of the restaurant into the confusing stickiness that consumed Tulsa. She was directionless, with no idea how she had gotten there in the first place and no idea where she was now headed. The only thing she was sure of was that she wasn't going to walk in the direction that the roofer, Darry, had told her was dangerous. So she turned and headed the opposite way. After turning a few corners, the diner was completely out of sight. Summer knew that she should have asked the waitress for directions before she left that place. But now was too late to turn back, she wouldn't be able to find the diner anymore.   
There was another reason that she didn't want to turn back. Summer was too proud to admit to her mistake and ask someone where she was. She just couldn't bring herself down to the level of humility, and although she would hate for people to see how meager she actually was, there was a second reason why she was afraid of humility. If anyone else saw just how inferior she was, it would be impossible for her to fool herself anymore. Fool herself into thinking that she was better than human emotions, better than human desires. Her identity would be lost. Thinking she was better than everyone else momentarily filled in a hole that had always existed inside of her. Or so she thought. What was she to do if she didn't have those few minutes of elation, of pure superiority? Without it she wouldn't be able to survive. She couldn't live with being just ordinary.   
  
  
  
  
Johnny found his way to a different park than the one he had met Dally in earlier that day. He liked this specific park for two reasons: nobody would bother him there, because the greasers never came to this area. He needed some alone time to think, to gather his thoughts so he could make sense of it all. Then there was that second thing he liked about the park. As he trudged through the dark green grass, the site of a beige fountain with water erupting from the center of it came closer and closer into his scope of vision. Johnny went and sat on the edge of the fountain, observing the pennies, nickels, and dimes that had been tossed into the cold water. Full of wishes never to come true. The place was close to the high school, which was far away from his house. It could be a good thing, and a bad thing. A good thing because he was far away from his parents in his so-called home. Johnny let out a curt laugh. _No wait, that wasn't quite right. So-called parents in a so-called home. Yeah, that was more like it._ He had to watch it, though, cause every once in a while the kids from way over on the west side of town would cruise around the high school area looking for a victim. Johnny shuddered momentarily, trying to push the memory out of his head.   
_  
No. Don't push the memory away. It's a part of you. It's who you are.   
  
That is not who I am! I am not a target, I am not a victim, I am not here for everyone to beat up on!   
  
Just accept it. Accept your past. Stop pushing the memories away. It is only then…that you will be able to accept yourself.  
  
I can't accept it! I hate my parents, I hate the socs, I hate my friends! I hate everyone!   
  
I hate…  
  
myself. _  
  
  
  
  
Summer was still lost when a small park came into view. Nobody appeared to be in the area. She saw a fountain spurting clear, fresh water. As her eyes drifted from the center of the fountain she noticed a black-haired figure with a black shirt. Suddenly she realized who it was._Oh shit, it's that kid again. What's wrong with this town? I keep on running into the same people. It's way too small, just like my town. Can never escape the exact people you are trying to avoid._   
  
It continued to get later and later on in the afternoon, the evening creeping up close behind, and Summer was tired of walking around aimlessly. Not to mention that her feet were killing her. Hesitantly, and after a lot of self-convincing, she decided to walk over to him and ask where the hell she was. As she walked up to him, she noticed how slowly he was drawing in the smoke from his cancer stick. He stared straight ahead and didn't seem to be focused on anything in particular. The boy was in deep thought. Summer got closer to him, and he still didn't see that she was there. As she placed a hand on his shoulder, he seemed to turn white as a sheet as he reacted to the touch, dropping his cigarette into the fountain.   
  
"Whoa…I'm…sorry about that," Summer apologized. Okay, yes, there was something about him that really, really scared her. He was just so….something.   
This time he wasn't wearing a jean jacket, and his black shirt was grungy and polluted. The light from the sun was much stronger than the glow had been from the fluorescent light in the diner, and this time he looked even worse than he had at Dingo's, if that was possible. As her orbs glided across him she couldn't keep the look of disgust from running onto her face. _Oh…God. That is so disgusting._ Her mouth went dry, and she almost stepped away. But she couldn't stand being lost anymore, and, besides, she had already gotten his attention.   
  
"Umm…" she started, trying to avoid his face.   
  
"I know it looks bad, okay?" he stated. "Now what do you want?" Summer started to chew on her lip, trying to find the courage to humble herself. He took out another cigarette, and lit it while he waited for her to continue.   
  
"Umm, hey, can I have a cigarette?" she finally replied. "I've been dying to have one, but my aunt won't let me smoke in the house. It's a major bummer, I always have to hide them and then I forget to take them with me when I leave the house." Johnny took out a smoke from his pack, and held it out with an exasperated sigh.  
  
"You don't look the type who smokes," he said menacingly.  
  
"Yeah, well," she said with biting sarcasm, "I'm full of surprises." Johnny lit up the cigarette for her impatiently, wanting to get her away from there as quickly as possible.   
  
"Listen, I usually don't talk like this. I usually don't talk…at all really. But just take the cigarette and get out here. I'm not in a good mood. _Please_," he added, now getting frustrated. She took the cigarette, and sat next to him on the fountain. She peered down into the cool water and dipped her hand in it, swirling it around with her fingers while she tried to think of the least embarrassing way to tell him she was lost. "What now?" he asked.  
  
Summer took a huge puff on the cigarette, blowing it through her nostrils rapidly.   
  
"Well…" she began, "I'm kinda new here and stuff. Well, to this town I mean, and I…" Johnny observed her as continued to stare into the fountain.   
  
"You're lost," he finished for her. Summer gave off a small laugh.   
  
"Yeah I guess you could…say that." Johnny's eyes roamed her elegant clothing that perfectly traced her flawless figure, and her shiny dark hair that wasn't frizzy at all despite the weather. Her face had some moisture to it and it was a bit red from the sun but it fitted her so…perfectly, for lack of a better word. The anger started to arise in him again. How he hated this girl…  
  
"What's it like?" Johnny abruptly questioned, and Summer looked up from the water fountain.   
  
"What's what like?" Summer replied. "To be lost you mean?" she said, laughing nervously.   
  
"No." he said curtly with spite in his voice, "to be so perfect." Summer stopped running her hand in the cool water, and her cigarette sat stale between her fingers.   
  
"Just give me the directions, okay?" she ordered, anger in her voice. Johnny smiled; his plan had worked.   
  
"You're right near the school, just follow that road right there," he started, pointing her in the right direction. "Which neighborhood are you looking for?"   
  
"Gosh...it's right on the tip of my tongue. It's Broad-something..."  
  
"Broadmoor. My dad used to drive the garbage truck around those neighborhoods way back when I was a little kid. If you're facing the school, go to your right until you reach 54th and 13th. Go left on 54th and keep on walking, it'll lead you straight to the neighborhood."   
  
Summer flicked the burning cigarette into the fountain, leaving the park without even a "thank-you." She had humbled herself enough anyway. As she walked to her aunt's neighborhood his words continued to ring in her ears:   
_  
What's it like to be so perfect? _  
  
  
  
  
Night had fallen and Johnny decided to head to his house. He knew the socs would start cruising soon, looking for some action. But what was really worse? Heading home, and getting beaten in his room, or staying in the park and…getting beaten there? No. He liked the fountain with its chilly water, he didn't want a bad experience associated with this place. Johnny started the journey towards his neighborhood. He already hated home.   
  
  
  
  
As Summer continued to walk along the straight path to her house, her legs became sticky and her skirt clung to her skin.   
  
_He led her down the street, the toothless addict escaping her scope of vision. She was drawn in by the poverty that surrounded her, it was so different compared to looking at it through a microscope via the television, or inside a big safe car, or in a magazine. How can you understand poverty, just how can you judge it, without even setting a single foot on the decayed ground, without smelling the stagnant atmosphere? There was a certain vulnerability about having slouching, cheap structures surrounding you. Everything possessed a quality of scarcity and weakness to it, and as the stench in the air filled Summer's senses she realized something…   
  
Just like the addict who had caused their car to wreck, just the like the lowlife she was now trotting alongside, it was so coarse, so rough, so exposed. How can someone live like that, their insides pushed and pulled to the point that they were mutilated, and then their outer crust peeled for society to see? Peeled just like the cheap orange paint she saw flaking off a building under the car's yellow headlights?   
  
As they continued on the crooked path, Summer could feels her legs getting sticky, and her skirt clung to her skin. The heat was descending even more upon them, the humidity almost like a blanket of muck that was dirtying her skin.   
  
…This was real. _  
  
  
  
  
A few minutes before she made it home, the evening fell upon her. Summer quickened her pace; she definitely didn't want her aunt finding out that she hadn't come straight home. The irritation had mentioned that she would be at a get-together with some of her friends, and Summer knew that as soon as the sun started to descend the lady would be making her way home. _If I don't get there before my aunt does, the crazy woman will definitely do a lock-down on me._ Summer would pretty much have to say good-bye to whatever freedom she posessed before.   
  
Her fists clenched, long nails piercing the flesh of slick, sweaty palms. _It's all their fault,_ Summer accused as an ache started slowly in her hands and ran throughout her body. _They're the ones who sent me here! They didn't want to deal with it themselves…they didn't want me…they never wanted me…_  
  
The house came into view, and Summer sighed in relief because the car was not yet in the driveway. After stepping through the unlocked door, her vision became blurry. Reaching out for the straight hallway, which would undoubtedly lead Summer to her destination, her fingers came in contact with the cheap stucco. After blindingly guiding herself through the bedroom door, Summer collapsed onto the soft bed, tiny droplets of blood leaking from her palms onto the crisp white sheets. Sleep dominated her rapidly; before any chance of resistance, before any cry of protest could be expelled.   
  
  



	9. Chapter 8

Whew! *Wipes sweat from forehead* finally I have the next chapter ready for you guys! I am sorry about the long wait, but I had a lot of stuff to do for the past two weeks.   
  
MissLKid: RP with you is very fun. I am not as busy this week, so we will probably get to do it more often now. Hope you like my new chapter.   
  
Jkb: Wow! I got your e-mail, and thank you so much for that! I am so glad that you are keeping up with my story, and that you review it everytime. And you call me a writer in the real sense of the word? That is so friggin (using your word...haha) flattering! And no, you are not a lowly apprentice. Like I said before, you're such a sweetheart! I really hope you like this chapter as well!!!  
  
VSGG: No problem not reviewing the story before, I am just happy to know that you are keeping up with it! Hopefully you will read the continuing chapters. About the Johnny and Summer interaction: I do have an idea of where this story is headed, although I don't any specifics in mind yet, but I can't say for sure that there will be a lot of Summer and Johnny interaction. There will definitely be some, but not a lot. But you never know, there may be more than I expect right now. I just don't want you to keep up with the story and disappoint you, just keep in mind the fact that it's not definite. Oh! And I'm so glad to hear you say that Summer is definitely not a Mary Sue, because for a while there I was like "Im not writing a mary sue, am i?" LOL.   
  
Legofodopip: Thanks soooo much for adding me to your faves list, thats so wonderful! And...you don't have to worry about reviewing the other chapters (unless you want to of course). I just really hope you keep up with it and review the future chapters. And...the thing about the vocabulary words, thats really damn funny! My story has become a homework assignment...no Im j/k;)  
  
Gryphon Girl: You are so nice, and so mature for your age. The god of writing? LOL I don't think so, but thanks for the compliment! I'm really glad you like my character Summer! It's weird because, in a sense, she's me (of course many things are different, but ultimately all of her feelings are mine). I really hope this chapter lives up to the last one, I hope you like it!  
  
ObSeSsIvE-cOmPuLsIvE-666: Oh man! That was quite a review! Thank you thank you *gets on floor to grovel at your feet* It's great that you like my imagery and also the humanization of my characters. Hopefully the muses were with me when I wrote this new chapter;)   
And I didn't too long with the update I hope!! You don't have to wait any longer...  
  
Okay, I just want to remind you guys this is an R story..so...if you get offended easily, dont read (although i dnot think you would have made it this far in the first place lol).   
  
Can you guys go ahead and tell how you like the last part (the third part of this chapter)? I wrote the last part a long time ago (about 5 weeks ago) but kept on pushing it back because I kept on adding new stuff in front of it. It then got kind of outdated (yeah a whole five weeks lol) in accordance with what happened before it so...I had to redo a lot of it. Anyway, tell me what you think. It isn't to corny or overdramatic is it? Oh well, if it is I still think its interesting to read.   
  
  
  
  
Johnny stepped into the house, slamming the door behind him. His mother was settled lifelessly on the couch, staring ahead at the television. She didn't bother to turn and acknowledge her son's arrival. The man of the house, who was slovenly gulping down yet another beer, turned his head after he heard the loud noise. Johnny didn't usually slam the door.   
  
"What're you doin, boy?" he slurred. Johnny, instead of heading straight to his bedroom as usual, stopped abruptly near the sofa. The sight of his parents agitated him; it was something he just usually tried to ignore. So why was he standing here now, in front of this goddamned pathetic sight, when he knew there was no reason to? Johnny hadn't been himself today. Something was confusing him, making him think differently. What it was he didn't know.   
  
His father took a deep gulp of beer, awaiting an answer. Johnny was always obedient and never confrontational, so his father expected nothing different this time. The teen sighed harshly, his mouth opening as a sarcastic response almost spilled out of him. He quickly shut his mouth as he examined the man's large frame, which stood inches above his own.   
  
Johnny, deciding any conflict was not worth the consequences, took a step forward in order to make his way towards his room. Before he could get any farther, his father moved in front of him, blocking his escape route. Johnny kept his head up, refusing to hide his ugliness. The man examined his son's face in drunken awe, as if he had never really looked at his son before. Confusion marked his intoxicated features as the beer bottle sat limply in his hand, his eyebrows wrinkling then letting loose. The thin lips of his father started to move, pouchy cheeks bouncing while he spoke.   
  
"Who did that to you, boy?" he asked, ejecting yet another question. It seemed extremely uncharacteristic of the man, considering he wasn't one for conversations. Johnny paused for a few seconds, trying to comprehend what his father had just asked. Did his father really just say what he thought he had? The boy's teeth clenched shut, his eyes widening as he stared straight into his father's face. It wasn't a joke. The man was serious.   
  
"What d-did you j-just say?" Johnny stammered in a quiet voice.  
  
"You heard me, you stupid boy!" he snapped back. "I _said_: who did that to you?"   
  
Johnny's figure went rigid in disbelief. The pace of his breathing sped up, hurt and bitterness filling up his insides. Did his father really just say that? No, he didn't! He did not just say that! He didn't, he didn't, he didn't. Johnny started to grind his teeth in an attempt to keep his mouth closed. He wanted to let it out, had to let it out!  
_   
Don't speak back. It'll get you in even more trouble. You know what will happen if you get in trouble._  
  
The big man grabbed his son's arm and pulled him close, Johnny's heart starting to pound as his father's harsh breath entered his nostrils. While staring into his father's warped eyes his lip started to tremble, suppressed emotions boiling to the surface.   
  
"You wanna know who did this to me?" Johnny questioned in a quivery voice, his legs and arms shaking. "You wanna know?" There was a long pause. Johnny started up again, unable hold it back anymore. "Well, it was you who did it to me! _You_! And you don't even remember! How could you do something like this and not even remember? Oh yeah, I forgot, because you were _drunk_!" His father stood dumbfounded, his eyes clouding over in rage. Johnny had never spoken up against anyone before, let alone against his father.   
  
Johnny's emotions shifted from anger back to a complete bleakness. He was sure of it: there was no point in this life. There was no reason for living. The two people who were supposed to care the most for him were eating at his insides. He hopelessly laughed. Yeah, well, he wasn't going to die at the hands of his mother or father. If anyone was going to take his life, he would do it a million times before anyone else would have the power of doing it. His parents weren't going to control his life, or death, anymore.   
  
The old man shoved him onto the couch, his mother was seemingly oblivious as to what was going on, except for the fact that she moved nonchalantly out of the way.   
  
"Don't you ever dis'spect me, boy!" his father shouted, his heavy fist coming in contact with Johnny's face. "Don't you ever yell at me again!" Johnny turned his head to see his father pulling a two-by-four from beneath the sofa.   
  
Johnny's face began to throb as a bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. It mixed with a drop of blood that drizzled from the fresh cut in his cheek. Now this was going too far, his father was stepping way over the line. Johnny never fought back. He never ran. He just took it. Always took it, never fought back.   
_  
Fight back! Kill that bastard!  
  
No! You're better than that!   
  
If you were better than him you wouldn't let him beat you like he does..._  
  
Johnny's eyes rolled back, memories pervading his thoughts. In his house, his old man always beat him, but the worst part was that his mother just sat and did nothing. What would it be like to have a loving mother, someone who notices you when you walk in the house? Someone who actually worries when you're hurt, a mother with the look in her eye of that emotion he never saw coming from his own parents. He would always see kids dropped off at school by their parents when he was in grade school. They would pat the kids' heads, watch them as they walked into the front double doors. Johnny used to be hopeful something like that would happen to him, but look! Johnny-boy has waken up now and faced the real world. This is his life and it was never going to get better. Just suck it up and live with it. He would never feel that emotion, he would never have someone openly come and hug him when he got home from school.   
  
Johnny was so accustomed to the physical and verbal abuse it was almost as if he needed it to survive. Without it, who would he be? Just nobody. At least his old man acknowledges the fact that his son exists when he swings the stick. His mother: she usually ignored him. He preferred her to spit in his face, to insult him with harsh words. At least it would show that in her eyes he still existed, every once in a while.   
  
He never even got tough love. The love was just completely absent, as absent as his chewed out insides. All those rich kids, they didn't know just how fortunate they were. Johnny thought back to the girl from the diner. He couldn't understand how someone like her could be so bitter when she looked so perfect, everything seemed to be going fine with her. She had no caked blood on her forehead, no dark bruises outlining her face. Didn't she have a loving mother who set peas and mashed potatoes on the table when Dad comes home from a hard day at work, a big smile lighting up her face, her yellow checkered apron so lovingly worn? Her mother enjoyed wearing the checkered apron, of course. She understood it was her duty to clean the house and set the table because her husband was a real hard worker and he brought in the money so that they could have their cute little house and their shiny silver car. Maybe they went to Disney World every summer when she was young, laughing, skipping along through the park hand in hand, the mother buying bright pink cotton candy so the daughter could savor the sweetness melting onto her tongue.   
  
Her father wasn't a insecure man who's real self was buried somewhere beneath his skin, never to emerge again. He wasn't a man who couldn't deal with life and instead took out all the tragic things that had happened to him out on his little kid. Her mother wasn't a battered little girl herself who swore that she would never marry someone like her father, but grew up and ended up repeating the cycle she was so certain she would avoid. That girl's mom didn't grow up an immigrant in poverty, dirt poor without enough money to buy sandals for her feet. Her mother was an All-American woman who had been raised with the All-American value system, a young girl wearing white flowy dresses and ribbons in her hair on the way to church.   
  
Johnny kept still as pain shot through his back.  
_  
See, Johnny-boy, this is what happens when you speak up! This is what's gonna happen if you fight back!_   
  
He tried to keep his mind focused as he bit his lip. Focus on the lip, focus on the lip. Don't think about...   
  
When another blow came he bit his lip so hard that it started to bleed. There was no way out, no way out except for an escape by his own bare hands, inflicted on his own body...  
  
No. He had thought about it numerous times, but something held him back. Maybe it was something deep down inside of him, something he thought didn't actually exist.   
  
Johnny looked into the huge, grimy mirror that hung on the living room wall, the old man's evil face hovering above his own. His beer gut was hanging out of his tight, discolored shirt. Huge stretch-marks were visible on the underside of his belly, where his skin had been pulled and expanded by swollen jelly fighting its way for some space, some air from the cramped womb in which it dwelled. The man's skin showed the progression of a diseased, stiffening liver; his yellowy, repugnant eyes seething with anger.   
  
But it wasn't just anger. There was a crazed look in his eyes too. His father was getting a release from it, it made him feel powerful. His jaundiced, balding head was turning red from the physical exertion of throwing a few punches, swinging the stick a few times. He had an oversized stomach that was jiggling in the process. It was just a little stick, right? Just a two-by-four, it was harmless! What hurt can a little whack do now and then? His teeth were discolored and had brown tobacco build up lining the upper row, his fingernails brittle.   
  
Every once in a while after Johnny would come home, his father would crack a can of cheap beer open, a weak fingernail ripping off in the process. "Damn these cans! I'm never openin' one again," he'd slur, a few minutes later popping open another one with his bloody, clawless appendage. The old man would pee himself to sleep every night, waking up a few hours later from the stench the urine created. "Damn it Flora! You wetted the bed again!" he would shout with his traces of his trashy accent apparent through the garbled words. Following seconds after that he'd practically pass out again, snores ringing throughout the shambled house.   
  
Johnny's dark eyes caught sight of an empty beer, its neck sticking halfway out from under the brown cushion. _Damn bastard! Too lazy to throw it away, huh?_ Johnny's fingers started to burn and his mouth turned dry as he licked his chapped lips.   
_  
Come on! Don't be such a wuss...  
  
You? Doing that? Ha! What a laugh. You're not supposed to fight back. That's just not you, buddy boy. You're not the strong type._   
  
His heart started to pound just few paces quicker as he observed his own face in comparison with his father's. The reflection through the mirror showed that they had exactly the same jaw structure, the same nose, the same amount of space between their eyes. _No, no, it's not anything more than a physical resemblance. Please God, don't let it be anything more..._  
  
For once he felt like throwing up.  
  
  
  
  
_It was an imprint of a hand. Summer observed her thigh in the image the mirror reciprocated back to her. His touch had left a permanent mark. **No, wait, that's not possible. A light, simple touch does not leave an imprint. You're so ridiculous!** But there it was, under the blinding white light that was visible from the bathroom bulb. She didn't even remember how she got there. It was almost as if the past few minutes leading from the wreck had been erased from her memory. Summer tried to take hold of the confusion, but the confusion was elusive and impossible to capture. Maybe the look of the streets, the feel of the area, had made her mind go into overload. It left her regaining her comprehension shortly after, when the artificial light shining from the ceiling had opened her eyes. She had found herself contained in a cheap, tiny bathroom with him.   
  
Summer tore her eyes from the mirror, and peered down at her leg. It was bent at the knee while the other leg was straight. It was a position she always stood in when she wasn't so comfortable, when she wasn't feeling quite right. The mark had disappeared from her thigh. But it had been visible in the mirror just a few seconds before. Had it really been a flaw, an illusion, created by the surface of the mirror?   
  
Her thought instantly drifted away when he stepped directly in front of her, blocking Summer's chance to see if the mark was still visible through the reflection. The coolness of a cloth touched her sticky skin, running across her forehead, cleansing the cut that had bled its way onto her skin. She grimaced slightly at the burning sensation the alcohol inflicted, her knee going straight as she stood erect.   
  
"Hold still sweetie, I'm just trying to make it better." Her teeth clenched and her body went rigid, an involuntary response to his orders. She was so **good** at following orders! She was a good little girl. He stared straight into her eyes. **Note to self: eyes are blue. Very pale. **  
**  
Very pale. Isn't that supposed to tell you something, dear? I thought you were a good little girl...  
  
Pale. Nobody I know has pale eyes. I'm tired of seeing sparkling eyes. Note to self: I'm tired of it. **  
  
Expanded horizontally across the full length of the wall was the mirror. It wasn't exactly huge, yet it gave off that impression because the bathroom was so small, so compact. The sink prodded out unnaturally from the wall, lacking a counter to put toiletries on because there wasn't enough space. There was no point in having anything elaborate in a bathroom like this anyhow. The toilet sat feebly to her right, inches away from where she stood. Summer's eyebrows wrinkled in curiosity.   
  
"Where exactly are we?" she questioned. He ran his finger along her sweated eyebrow.  
  
"Don't you remember?" he questioned like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We had planned to go here from the parking lot. You told me the directions. It was your choice, not mine. Why would I choose a crappy place like this anyway? I did it all for you." He emphasized his last phrase, "Because I **love** you." Summer felt a wave of warmth flood her, a tiny smile creeping up onto her lips.   
**  
You know that's not what happened! Why are going along with it?**   
**  
Shut up! I believe him. Maybe I did somehow imply that I wanted to come here. Maybe I asked for it. Maybe...  
  
Sure, never mind the fact that what he just said was total bullshit!  
** **  
My mom always told me it's the thought that counts. **  
  
  
I want to believe him.   
  
  
Her skirt was still moist from the throw-up. **Don't remind me of that, throw-up is so gross.** Although...it wasn't exactly the normal throw-up that contained bits and chunks of food. Just some recycled cola. **Ew. Still gross though.** The stale air in the bathroom gave off a certain suffocation that pressed down on whatever lay beneath it. There was no ventilation, and with the door closed, the air repeatedly circulated in the small space. It gathered up whatever crossed its path, unable to expel it.   
  
"Hey!" he waved his hand in front of her face, trying to get her attention. "You ain't focusin'. I need you to think straight for me, baby." Summer couldn't help her mind from wandering. Too many things were happening, coming from different directions. She was so used to the same wavelength, all these different levels were confusing her. Her mind was shifting from one level to the other and it was unable to keep still.   
  
Fingers ran their way through long silky hair. **Note to self: fingers are crooked. Hair is straight. Something's not clicking here.**   
  
"Don't worry. It's going to be okay. You're such a sweetheart, just like in those songs they play on the radio all the time. You're my little honey child." Summer blushed, thinking back to the songs she had listened to over the weekend when she had sat in her room, combing her shiny hair in front of the mirror. His face peered straight down into hers, and this time under the bright glow she could see the tiny cracks in his skin, the dullness of his hair.   
  
**Something's not clicking here.**   
  
Summer could feel the blood circulating heavily through her system while the pump echoed in her ears. As she leaned her head back against the dismal wall, her face started to throb more aggressively, the heat leaking from the exterior of her skin to her insides. It burned into her face and formed warped red splotches on her chest. _  
_   
"What about my skirt?" she questioned, pointing to the moist area, surprised at the hoarseness of her own voice. He smiled. It was crooked.   
  
"Sweetie, it's going to be okay," he stated while chuckling.   
  
"Really?" she questioned, this time not so sure what she should believe, but now there was no turning back from where she was headed.   
  
"You're not going to be needing it anyway."   
  
Summer's eyes widened at his words. Her lungs took in slow breaths as the light from the ceiling seemed to blur her vision, a sick feeling starting to rise from the pit of her stomach. **Just say that one little word! Come on! You know, the four letter word. No, not that one! The one that starts with an "s" and ends with a "p".** She tried to get her lips moving, but couldn't. Summer had never resisted anything before, how would she know now how to? It was just easier...easier to take it. Her mom's words resided in her ears: **Resistance is futile, now be a good little girl! ** Her mother probably didn't even understand what that **really** meant.   
  
He forced the material down her legs, the throbbing in her lower stomach exposed. Summer's ears started to ring uncontrollably.   
**   
No! Wait! I didn't want this! I didn't want this!   
  
Don't resist! You can't live like you've been living. This is your escape. You would rather die than be innocent for the rest of your life! **  
  
His cold lips brushed across her inflamed cheek, the mirror coming into view again. The image reflected back to her was not of her own wide eyes, her own pink lipstick, but that of her friend.   
  
Emily's lips moved, and Summer could hear her tiny voice above the ringing in her ears: **Why are you doing this? I'm not talking to you anymore. You're indecent. **  
  
Summer could feel hot liquid forcing itself again from her stomach. She fought to keep it inside. Her parents appeared in the image, squeezed into the rectangular object next to Emily. All three people stared at her, their eyes penetrating into her half naked figure through the mirror. **Don't take my clothes off, I can't bear to be naked in front of all these people! My skin is exposed, cover up the blotches, please!**   
  
Her mother's voice pierced through the ringing in her ears, overpowering Emily's babbles: **What is everybody going to think of you, huh? Why are you doing this to me Sunny? Why? Nobody is going to like us anymore, everybody's going to be talking about us and it's all your fault! **  
  
**Now, now, Mary, don't worry about it. We don't really need her anyway. We'll just lock her in the cellar, then we won't have to deal with her anymore. Those darn authority figures won't even find out! **Summer's mouth went dry as her father disintegrated from the mirror with his pointer finger held to his temple in deep thought: **Now, what is a good campaign motto for the election that's coming up?**  
  
Cold hands brushed against her heated stomach, his thumbs pulling on the elastic of her cotton panties. Summer moved her head to the side, his lips catching hers and pressing down on her. She was breathing through her nose, the breaths becoming quicker and quicker. He pressed into her until the back of her head was in contact with the wall, his kisses suffocating her, just as she had been suffocated her whole life.   
  
**Stop! I feel sick, this isn't me! **She wanted to stop it, but at the same time she didn't. Her mom's influence continued to pervade her thoughts.  
  
**Don't lose yourself. It's unstoppable after this!**   
  
But she was already halfway down the path, and she would never be able to retrace her steps now. It was so different, so against what her parents wanted. **Good! Fuck them!** Summer blinked in surprise at the hostility now flooding her thoughts. She had never realized that she felt this way, not until now.   
  
Summer's panties were completely off now as his hands started roaming her body. His lips had formed into a smirk, oddly similar to the smirk she had made a few weeks earlier while trotting down the street.  
  
"I know you're likin' it. Mmm you're diggin' it, ain't ya?" Summer closed her eyes, his words making her mouth go dry as her bottom lip trembled. Who did he think she was? Some tramp or something? **Wait! That's not me! I'm not like that! Is that what I look like to you? Some whore?** But she didn't speak up, didn't respond to his statement.   
  
She wasn't going to resist. That he knew for sure.  
_  
  
  
  
Her eyes peeled open once again, at the same time it had happened the two nights before.   
_  
No, not again. Please God. Come on, I know you're up there somewhere...  
  
...Okay, maybe not, you bastard! _  
  
Damn that hypocritical bastard. He never answered her prayers. What a liar.  
  
After shifting to get up from the bed, Summer realized that she had fallen asleep in an uncomfortable position. _You're so stupid! Why didn't you think about that before you went to sleep?_ But then again, she hadn't even been able to see straight before she had practically passed out. Why would anyone even think about getting under the thick blankets or moving to a more suitable arrangement if their eyes were practically crossed?   
  
Summer stood up, the room blurring for a few seconds. Luckily this time it went back into focus. It was almost as if there were a biological clock ticking inside of her, grabbing her from her lifeless sleep and shoving her into a waken state of hunger and wantonness every time. Stepping away from the bed rigidly, she grabbed the cigarettes sitting atop the small furniture next to her and lit a cigarette. After blowing a few puffs, a trail of smoke crawled through the bedroom door._ Oh shit, I forgot I can't smoke in this house. _Slender fingers hesitantly put the smoke out, Summer's body craving the nicotine that she was now depriving herself of.   
  
Her figure slipped through the front door, and she sighed in annoyance. Why was she never able to escape the constrictive humidity?   
  
Summer felt something itchy on her right thigh, and raised her skirt just high enough so that her fingers could scratch it. She looked down to see what it was, but as always, no evidence presented itself. No bite, no nothing. Yet it always itched in the same spot, every night.   
  
Her ears started to ring ever so slightly, making her forget. Summer knew she had to go to a place where she could satisfy the feelings. She needed to go, even though she hated doing it.  
  
**_London calling to the faraway towns  
Now that war is declared and battle come down  
London calling to the underworld  
Come out of the cupboard all you boys and girls_ **   
  
As she trotted along in a disabled state of mind, a dark creature peered out from the alleyway, noticing the delicate female striding under the street light. Summer stood out a little more so than she needed to. He seemingly floated just a few steps behind, the girl totally oblivious to the danger that trailed her. As she stepped pass a deserted back street, the filthy animal grabbed her arm, and dragged her into the dead end.   
  
_**London calling now don't look at us  
All that phony Beatlemania has bitten the dust  
London calling see we ain't got no swing  
'Cept for the ring of that truncheon thing**_  
  
The narrow alley had a dim red light shaking on and off at a rapid pace. A nasty substance had leaked from the trash bin and formed a puddle smack dab in the middle of the small alley. It was the remnants of leftover alcohol bottles that had been thrown into the bin, mostly beer and vodka seeping through the trash and forming an even more putrid solution.   
  
As Summer was pushed into the wall, his face coming into view under the light flickering down.  
  
It was the towhead from the diner.   
  
Summer almost laughed out loud at herself. What was this? A horror movie or something? Was he going to turn into a werewolf? Sure, and she was going to scream like the dickens while his faced turned all hairy, his back hunching over like an old lady while he howled into the night. _Too much hair is gross anyway._   
  
Still, he intimidated her although she refused to admit that to herself.   
  
"You...what the hell are you doing?" she questioned in a seemingly clear, stable voice. If she acted tough, cold, harsh, maybe she could convince herself she wasn't really scared.   
  
"No," he countered, "I want to know what the hell you are doing here, walking my streets. Insulting my fucking friend. I told you I was gonna get you..."  
  
"And here you are," she continued sarcastically. Summer just couldn't comprehend the loyalty this guy had for his gang. Why would anyone go to these lengths just because she said a few things to his friend in the diner? A slight sense of jealousy ran through her. Summer couldn't remember the last time someone had defended her like that.   
  
"You bitch," he said calmly, still holding her against the wall with a tight grip. "Nobody, and I mean nobody, talks to my friend like that." Adrenaline was pumping throughout her body as she looked straight into his eyes. They were pale blue with a mix of crimson, reflecting the shaky red light that dangled above them. _Don't look at his face. Don't remember. Play the role…just pretend. _  
_**  
The ice age is coming, the sun is zooming in  
Meltdown expected and the wheat is growing thin  
Engines stop running but I have no fear  
London is drowning and I live by the river**_  
  
"Who cares about your friend anyway?" Summer asserted, the moisture from the air accumulating on her eyelashes. "You're all a bunch of filthy hoods." Spit flew onto his face, the froth sliding over his lips, then dripping off his chin onto his shirt. He tore her from the wall, stepped back, and this time slammed her up against the rusty colored bricks. Her vision blurred for a few seconds as his elfish face coming into view once again. Summer took in a shaky breath, forcing the tears back. _You're so lame! My God. Why are you crying? You're not as strong as I thought you were. No…nevermind. I always knew you were weak in the first place. Did you really think you could fool everybody? _  
  
No! She wasn't going to cry in front of him. She never cried, what was happening to her? _It's just my mind playing tricks on me. It's not affecting me._  
  
Dallas observed her features, noting her wavering emotions. Ha. What an easy target. And she thought she was so tough.   
  
"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Dallas menaced in a low tone, the words slipping through his clenched teeth. "You think you can walk these streets with your nose stuck up in the air, flaunting your expensive clothing, and expect everyone to bow down and kiss your feet? Honey, you ain't gonna survive long on this side of town. Sooner or later someone's gonna take a goddamn knife and slit your delicate, soft throat." He released one of his hands from her blouse, his index finger tracing a faint path on her vulnerable neck.   
  
Summer continued to look into his face, his eyes blinding her thoughts.   
_  
Don't look into his eyes! It's screwing you up.  
  
You know you want to. Don't try to forget. It's a part of who you are. _  
  
Dallas removed his grasp from her shirt and ran his hands down her shoulders, then over her arms. Her breathing became slower as she struggled to keep herself together.   
_  
Don't lose yourself. It's unstoppable after this!_  
  
Dallas's eyes widened in satisfaction as he suddenly remembered her odd refusal the night before. This time he was the one control of the situation. Dallas started to bring his face closer to hers, until their lips were practically touching. Summer's hands started to shake, their noses barely connected, and only an inch between their lips.   
  
Summer tried to play it cool, make it look like the small distance between them wasn't really making her uneasy. She rigidly sucked in the air from the thick atmosphere in an attempt to keep herself from blacking out. It was getting harder and harder to breath.   
  
He observed the girl in awe of the craziness she exhibited. Dallas felt a pang of contentment, his lips becoming a smile. She looked as if she was going to have a nervous breakdown. On top of Dallas's intimidating nature, he knew there was something else that was frightening her. Something that had scared her last night at Buck's. This girl had a definite weak spot, yet he couldn't quite figure out what the source of it was.   
  
The outline of his face started to blur. Through the haziness, she saw his lips form into a smirk.   
_  
Come on! He's laughing at you! Do something to show him you're not so weak._  
  
Summer was desperate to get a breath. She brought her hands up to his chest, weakly pressing into him so that he would back away. He didn't move, his face still too close for her. _Speak up, say something to get him to move! You're gonna suffocate!_ She managed to focus her mind for a few seconds, piecing the words from her scrambled thoughts together.   
  
"You?" she managed to get out, "you're gonna die one day on the streets. Your body is gonna be thrown into a fucking trash heap in a cheap plastic bag, and nobody is gonna care."   
  
Dallas paused for a second, then backed up, letting her loose.   
  
He imagined the broken pieces of his body jumbled inside a garbage bag, the lid of the trash bin shutting him into darkness. Time wouldn't stop, time wouldn't stand still. Nobody would care that Dallas Winston was dead. Everyone would go about their business. Drinking their coffee in the morning. Petting their cats in the afternoon. Brushing their teeth at night. In bed, they would flip open the pages of the newspaper, his tiny name barely visible in the obituary section, at the very bottom of the final page.  
_  
Fuck the world! Fuck everyone! I don't care._   
  
Her words got to him more than he would ever want to admit.   
_  
Don't let her see it. Don't let her have the satisfaction of knowing her words had an effect.  
  
Show her, man! You're better than that! _  
  
He slowly pulled his fist back, the slammed her across the face. Summer gasped while Dallas laughed in amusement. Yeah, you would expect a chick who mouthed off to Dallas like that to be able to take the hit, be tough for god sakes! But he could see she wasn't really tough like that. Summer was weak. Summer was just so _easy_ in every aspect. She was as _easy_ to convince as a kid offered cotton candy, she was as _easy_ to convince as a teenager offered a chance to rebel against those darn authority figures!  
  
She was as easy to unravel as the thread on her shirt.   
  
It was a sad fact: no one had actually done that do her before. Never challenged her, never made her see inside herself. See the person that was buried somewhere underneath.   
  
"You wanna know something?" he said through gritted teeth, both his hands now holding a tight grip on her shirt. "I dunno if I believe in God, or Heaven, or any of that bullshit. But I do know one thing. If any of that shit is true, any of it at all, my friend would be the first one headin' straight up there, flappin' around with goddamn angel wings. You would be stuck right here in this disgusting alley, a fuckin' bum with no teeth."   
  
Dallas pulled Summer away from the brick wall as she let out a pathetic sob. Her satin shirt was ripped open in the process, exposing her warm, aching breasts that were spilling out of the bra. He shoved her onto the ground and slapped her. She yelped again, yet ceased to resist. He started sliding her skirt down off her hips.  
  
"He has a soul somewhere underneath all those scars," Dallas stated, "way more of a soul than you'll ever have..."  
  
Summer's hair was smothered in the puddle of the slimy liquid substance as Dallas pressed her into the concrete. He was going to use this fucking bitch, teach her a lesson. The heat started in his face then traveled downward, dribbling its way to his lower body. Dallas knew this was the worst thing a man could do to a female. This girl was gonna see what it was like to _really_ live on the streets, see the part that wasn't glorious. The kind of life where people turned their heads away, or worse, people didn't even realize you are there...  
  
**_London calling upon the zombies of death  
Quit holding out and draw another breath  
London calling and I don't wanna shout  
But when we were talking I saw you nodding out  
London calling see we ain't got no highs  
Except for that one with the yellowy eyes_**  
  
He started fondling her ripe breasts with one hand, the other slipping the straps of her bra down off her shoulders. He peered into Summer's eyes, expecting to see some rotten emotion: anger, terror, disgust. Instead he saw something that shocked him. It was a pleading look. Not to stop, but to continue with the sabotage he was doing to her body. She wanted it so bad, it would practically kill her if he stopped now. What in the fuck was wrong with this girl? She confused the hell out of him, after this was over he didn't want to have anything to do with her. He just didn't _get_ her...  
_   
It would practically kill her if he stopped now._  
  
…or maybe he did.   
  
Dally stopped pulling her skirt down, leaving it halfway off. Her beige panties gave off a red hue under the weak glow, her stomach rising and falling to the pace of her gasps.   
_  
No, that's not the way to do it,_ Dallas slowly realized, _get her where it really hurts._  
  
"Why are you stopping?" she panted, her expectant figure calling out. "Don't you..." she stopped herself short before actually finishing her sentence. But he was like all those others, right? Didn't he want her?  
  
"No....no." Dally thought aloud, the vengeance taking over his desire. It gave off a sense of euphoria. "I'm gonna teach you a lesson." He stood up, and as he towered over her, his cold eyes observed the beautiful damage he had caused. He could see her veins throbbing in protest from the pain that was now visible on her face. Her plump red bottom lip had a huge cut and a stream of blood was leaking through it. Summer's long, dark hair hung in wet strings down to the half of her back, soaked from the rancid substance that had dripped from the waste.   
  
"Why don't you take a good look in the mirror now," he said calmly, a crazed look in his eyes, "and describe what you see."  
  
With that he turned his back to her, and sauntered off from the dim light of the alley, as if nothing had happened at all.   
  
Summer lay in the alley, the fever dying down as a total depression overtook her. Slowly the stickiness went away, the sweat evaporating off her body. She was nothing without the humidity gravitating towards her.   
  
After what seemed like an hour, she rose to her knees and turned to the red-tented puddle that was visible under the flickering light. Summer caught a glimpse of her reflection in the polluted liquid. She stared in disgust at her torn blouse, her half removed skirt, and her swollen cheek. Blood was dribbling down her chin from the cut on her lip, and she cringed at the foul smell her hair gave off. It felt so raw. The one thing she did not want to become had manifested itself inside of her and had ultimately taken over. She wouldn't have cared now if her guts were hanging outward and flies were nibbling at her tissue. It didn't matter anymore.  
  
Suddenly she realized who the black haired kid reminded her of.   
  
_He reminded her of herself. _   
  
  
  
_**Lyrics from "London Calling" by The Clash**_  
  
  
  



	10. Chapter 9

Hello! Yes...I am back to working on this story.   
  
MissLKid: I can't thank you enough for continually reading and reviewing my story! I'll be able to rp with you sometime this week. TTYL :)  
  
VSSG: Thanks SO much for that elaborate review, you have no idea how much I appreciate it. Morbid, dark, and angsty, huh? That's such a cool description of my story...and it's funny it ended up that way because I never intended to make it like that...haha.   
  
Legofodopip: I'm glad you continued reviewing! I really hope you like this chapter also...  
  
wis8r: Wow! The whole thing in one night? Thanks so much for paying attention to my story and reviewing. Oh! and about the chapter lengths...thanks for informing me about that, I was wondering if they were a good length or not.   
  
Enjoy the chapter...and Johnny shows up eventually...  
_  
  
  
  
She touched the smudged lipstick trailing off her lips. No words came out of her for a long while. Finally she decided.   
  
"I wanna go home." She said it slowly, her words unusually quiet and flat. Her eyes examined the pink, wax-like substance that covered her fingertips. All Summer knew was that she wanted to go home, her desired goal blocking out the fact that her hand was getting blurry.   
  
Summer rose from the sitting position and found her way out of the building. Funny how he wasn't there anymore. It was still dark.   
**  
Where am I headed?   
  
I don't know. Did you ever really know where you were headed?**   
  
"That's it," Summer mumbled to herself, "I'm going...home. I figured that one out." Her ears started to ring as she tried to cope with what had happened. She'd never be able to go back to where she had come from. She'd never be the same again.   
  
Her buckled shoes clattered on the pavement as she tried to make her way back to the other side of town.   
  
**There's a slight problem. A small one, but still...yeah. The street. It's kind of tilting.**   
  
Summer stumbled, trying to reach the side of the building before she fell. She leaned against the brick wall, her head throbbing.   
  
"Phone...good idea." She stuck her hand in the front pocket of her shirt, fishing out the extra quarter her mother had given her...for emergencies. Summer had never grasped that concept until now. But what was happening now was not an emergency, right? Everything was just fine.   
  
The pay phone was a few feet away, and Summer waited a few seconds until her vision became somewhat manageable. She stepped up to the phone, and shakily dialed the number to her house.   
  
**Oh momma that's where the fun is  
But momma that's where the fun is   
  
** She hung up the phone and slid down the side of the telephone booth.   
**  
Just a few more minutes, just a few more minutes....**  
  
She was losing her mind. It was terrifying to have no control.   
**  
She got down but she never got tired   
She's gonna make it to the night **  
**She's gonna make it through the night**  
  
  
  
"Concussion: that's what it is. Keep her in bed for a couple of days and she'll be fine. We also sewed up the small cut on her forehead, and wrapped a bandage around her head."  
  
"Oh, thank god!" The tears started again; this time out of happiness instead of frightening uncertainty. "I just can't believe what happened, it's- it's crazy. I never would have thought that **Summer**, out of all these wild youngsters..."  
  
"Well, uh, honey..." her husband interrupted, "I think it's time we get going. Summer must be exhausted." The doctor tapped the piece of paper Summer's father was holding with his pen.   
  
"That's the number to call if you need anything. And we've got the appointment for next week scheduled, so see you then!"   
  
"Yes," the woman wiped the snot dripping from her nostril with a kleenex, "yes, you're right! We should get home. I can't thank you enough, doctor. My baby's okay!"  
  
"Yes, thank the lord she's okay," the father commented as he made his way through the hospital hall into her room.   
  
  
  
Summer opened her eyes, and ran her fingers along the knitted designs of the comforter. Gosh, her head hurt.   
  
She frowned. Summer wasn't happy, and while she had felt unhappy numerous times before, this time it was different. It was like she was hollow inside. Voices rose up the stairs from the living room.   
  
"What do you **mean**, Harold? Of course Sunny wouldn't do something like...like...."  
  
"The young Johnson girl **saw** her go off with what seemed to be some hoodlum, from what she described. A **hoodlum** for chrissakes! They were way on the other side of town, the **bad **side. And this was no kid!"   
  
"Stop it! Just stop it! She would never do a thing like that, she's a thirteen year old..."  
  
"That's right! She's thirteen! And this guy was who knows how old! She's just a child, she could be easily forced...."   
  
"NO!" the mother's voice pierced through the household. "NEVER! That did not happen, not to my little baby! It didn't, okay? They were just driving across town and... just got in a wreck and, and...he took off. Then she- she called us right away. That's IT!" The woman's entire body shook as sobs escaped her.   
  
Summer was burning up underneath all the blankets that had been thrown on top of her. Her fingers clenched the comforter, and she pushed it off of her onto the floor.   
**  
No, no, no, nothing happened. Mom's right. Nothing happened.   
  
Don't deny it; it's now a part of who you are.   
  
But who am I?**   
  
Summer had never questioned anything before in her life.   
  
  
  
"So, how do you like it, sweetie?" Her smile was huge and hopeful. Summer sipped a bit of the orange juice.   
  
"I don't know. It's okay. I'm just not that hungry." Her mother started rubbing her thumbs on her apron. It was a habit she always did when she was nervous.   
  
"Oh but after all you've been through the past three days. You should have some breakfast. Ever since before....the accident...you haven't eaten anything."  
  
"I know, but I'm just-"  
  
"**Summer**, please eat your food. I'm ordering you to. You need the energy."   
  
"Mom?"  
  
"Yes Summer?"   
  
"Get the fuck out of my room."   
  
  
  
He was home from work, and his wife told him of how their child had been acting.   
  
"I just don't understand," she commented, wiping a tear that was bubbling up from her eyelid. "I try to help her and...and I don't even understand why she's acting like someone died or something! Yes, I know something like a car wreck can be scary, but she's becoming someone else."   
  
"I know she's still recovering," he replied, "but that's just not acceptable. What is happening to our daughter?" Summer didn't really understand what was happening to her either, but what she did know is that she was tired of it all. Her father started coming up the stairs, and finally the door knob to her room turned.   
  
"Summer," he stated, closing the door behind him. She brought the covers up around her neck, and closed her eyes. The weight of the bed shifted as he sat down on it. "I know you're awake. Open your eyes." Summer refused. "Okay then, I'm still going to talk to you, because I know for a fact you're not asleep." He paused, waiting for some kind of response. He didn't get one. "I know you've been through a lot these past days- the car accident, and your concussion. But I need you to speak up now." He paused for a long time, gathering his thoughts together as to how he was going to ask this. "Did...Is there anything I need to know about? Anything else that happened that night?" Summer grasped the sheets just slightly tighter bringing them up to cover her face. Anger suddenly ran throughout her body... for her parents. For him. She still refused to speak up. "That hood- um, man, that you went in the car with. Did you do anything that you might not want to talk about?"   
  
"No-," the word stopped short in Summer's throat. She swallowed the lump in her throat.   
  
"I need you to tell me the truth. Because if that is what happened, we need to get you checked out, make sure that..."  
  
"That I'm not pregnant. Right." Her hands started shaking.   
  
"No! I didn't mean it that way.."  
  
"But you did." She could hear the shakiness of her voice, she could feel the dampness on her face. "And what if I were pregnant? Huh? What would you do then? Tell me to get an abor-" she couldn't finish her sentence.   
  
"Honey," he replied, trying to gently pull the covers away from her face. "I know you. I know you're not telling me the truth."  
  
"But do you?" she said, her voice rising. "Do you really know who I am? No you don't, cause you're always occupied, you're always doing things for yourself. You never stopped once and...took the time to get to know me! So why should I tell you now, all of a sudden after these thirteen years?"   
  
"It's not like that, Summer..."  
  
"I didn't do anything with him."  
  
"You're lying. I'm taking you to the doctor as soon as you get better."   
  
  
  
Dr. Wilson stepped out into the lobby. It was after hours at his small practice, but he had made an exception. He smiled sadly.   
  
"Harry? I'm finished. Please come with me to my office." Summer's father smoked his cigarette nervously as he walked into the office and sat down opposite the doctor. "I checked her and- I'm sorry. The hymen is broken, indicating she did have intercourse." Summer's father dropped his cigarette onto the floor, his eyes wide in shock. He knew there was the major possibility that it had happened, but to hear for a fact that it was true...  
  
"Geez Rob, I'm sorry about that," he said as he swooped down to pick up the cigarette, and threw it into the trash can. He opened up his cigarette box and unsteadily grabbed another cigarette to light up._  
  
_"I'm....so sorry Harry. I know you did your best. You raised her in a good Christian home-" Harry simply looked at the floor, with a look of defeat on his face.   
  
"No, don't be sorry. It's- it's not your fault. That...that bastard! What I could do now if I could get my hands on him..." Dr. Wilson put a hand on Harold's shoulder.   
  
"It's already happened. There's nothing you can do. Now, as for the pregnancy..." Harold took a hard puff from the cigarette. "We don't know yet. I sent the test in, and it will be back in a week."   
  
"Oh-okay," Harold said nervously. He paused for a minute. "Rob? We've been buddies forever. Just, please remember to keep this quiet. Please. You know how important this is to our family." Dr. Wilson nodded his head.   
  
"No prob, Harry. You're like my brother. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you or your family."   
  
  
  
"You **should** have stayed with Emily, dammit!" Summer stared out the window of their car, even though it was night and there was nothing to see. Summer closed her eyes and drowned out the angry ramblings of her father._  
  
_Do we always live in a world of "shoulds"? What if we had done everything we should have in our life? Where would we be right now? A whole world of "ifs" and "maybes" and "don'ts" and "ought to's". That's all they did! Just how many times do we actually listen to ourselves? Maybe its all those "shoulds" that led Summer from her path in the first place.  
  
"...I'm gonna prosecute that bastard. Even if we can't prove full-blown rape, Summer, if he's over eighteen..."_  
  
_"He already left. You're not gonna find him. I wouldn't testify anyway...I don't ever want to think about again." She scoffed. "And...I know you don't want bad publicity anyway."  
  
"What? What do you mean? Summer, you know that's not true..."  
  
"He was just going through Tulsa. I'm sorry," she stated mechanically, "I know I shouldn't have. I knew he was a drifter...maybe if I had thought of the consequences...if I had stayed with Emily...if I had been a good little girl...I ought to straighten up..." He slammed the dashboard with the palm of his hand; it was unusual for him to show emotions like that. He hurt; he hurt really bad. But he didn't know how to handle it.   
  
"Don't. Don't say that, Summer. I know I should have been there for you..."   
  
"You can't change the past."   
  
  
  
Her mother was ferociously scrubbing the floor, and her father had been smoking nonstop for two hours when they got the call. She wasn't pregnant.   
  
Summer's father was relieved, even though it still hurt. As long as it didn't get out what had happened to Summer...  
  
Summer's mother was going crazy with what had happened with her daughter, but she denied it all. Her daughter had not had sex. Just put on a smile and everything's okay...  
  
  
  
  
  
_ His head was starting to spin, his blurred vision making him queasy. Johnny was suffocating. His father was losing grip, and there was no turning back now. The man wasn't going to stop. Johnny was now sure of it.   
  
He needed to fight back, or he was going to die.   
  
Johnny knew that if he didn't stop it soon, his father would end up killing him. Tonight. Everything had become surreal and was moving in slow motion. It was difficult to keep concentration with the agony his body was experiencing. But he had to get past the physical. His fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle. His arm burned.   
  
It was almost beautiful. The shattering glass, the huge mass crashing to the floor. The blood splattering all over the couch and leaking onto the cheap tile beneath it.   
  
Ha. Beautiful.  
  
Johnny's mother gasped in surprise. Then everything went silent.   
  
The bastard was sprawled out across the floor, thick red blood pouring out of the huge gash that lay across his forehead. He was unconscious. Johnny's mother stared in disbelief at the scene that had just taken place in front of her, her small black pupils darting back and forth from husband to son. After what seemed like an hour, she spoke slowly and with uncertainty.   
  
"You...look what you did." She couldn't believe what her son had just done. Neither could Johnny. There was more silence.   
  
Who would have thought? Who would have thought that such a sensitive, delicate, _selfless_ kid could have committed an act like that? It can only go so far before you breakdown...  
  
No matter how perfect you are._  
_  
  
  
  
_He was smiling as he shut the door. He slipped his expensive red jacket off, and tossed it onto a nearby chair.   
  
"So, we gonna do this or what?" Summer started unbuttoning her shirt.   
  
"Yeah, I'm ready." The sixteen year old had changed a lot since...   
  
**You're a slut! That's all you are.  
  
But I can't do without it. It doesn't matter anyway because I'm dead inside.**  
  
She hadn't done it that often until about a year ago. It was always on her mind, and she used to fight it. But she got so tired of fighting. So Summer started to do it more and more frequently. Yes, physically, it felt good. The release empowered her. It was just the after-effect that made her feel so...  
  
Now, she didn't really feel fear. It was more like an insecure cynicism. She pretended she had power over herself: not her parents, not her friends, not him. It was just her. She didn't need anybody else! All her emotions would come in short pangs, and simply disappear. She never felt unhappy, or scared for more than a few seconds. She always push down the feelings an instant after that. But she would never let herself feel anything that others enjoyed.   
  
**I can manage just fine by myself!**   
  
But could she? Was she really her own self or had the authority simply shifted forms, transferring from one figure to another? Now she would never live up to her parents' expectations.  
  
**Good! Fuck them anyway...**  
  
But did she really want this either? Maybe he had left more of an imprint than she thought.  
  
  
  
"I can't let you go out tonight."   
  
"Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it? Ground me, call the cops, I don't care." She brushed past her mother and ran out the door. She was way past being able to control.   
  
"Summer! You're not leaving this house, get back here!"   
  
The inevitable had happened and it was all Summer's fault.  
  
  
  
"It's 3 o' clock in the morning, Summer. Your mother told you you couldn't go out. She couldn't go to sleep for hours because she was so worried; she was so exhausted from the stress she finally dozed off. I have been up all this time, waiting for you to come back, wondering if you were safe." She stepped past her father, attempting to make her way toward the bedroom.   
  
"Funny how you're here now, you weren't here earlier to tell me this. Oh yeah," she remarked bitterly, "I forgot. You were at work. Again." Her father stepped in front of the staircase. It had been going on for three years, getting increasingly worse each year...but the situation she was in now, it would make her fall apart...  
  
"I can't believe my sweet little daughter has become what you have now. Your nasty attitude, your irresponsibility, your..." he stopped himself short. Summer stared at him, waiting for him to continue.  
  
"My what?" she questioned quietly.   
  
"Nothing. You've just become a different person, Summer..."  
  
"My **what**!" Her voice had risen now, urging him to continue. He looked into her eyes with spite and disgust.  
  
"Your...promiscuity. You shame this family. I have told you numerous times to **stop**, I try to hold you back as best I can, goddamit Summer, I've tried everything. You're just getting progressively worse...you've become nothing but a two-cent whore..."  
  
"Shut up!" Summer screamed, covering her ears as if it would make the problem go away, "Just shut up! I hate you! I fucking hate you!" She stepped closer to him, then angrily slapped his face.   
  
"Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed, bringing his fingers up to the cut her ring had caused. "That's it." Before he could reach her she ran up the stairs. Summer managed to make her way through the doorway of her bedroom, but her father caught the door before she could close it. After struggling with him to shut the door, she finally gave up. Summer had grown a lot within the past few years, but was still no match for her father. He stepped into the room, blocking the doorway to make sure she wouldn't run out.   
  
"How many times, Summer? How many guys?" Summer flopped onto the bed, staring at the design on the comforter. "The rumors that have been going around, practically the whole town knows. This has ruined my practice. My clients are dwindling. That's not to even mention my shot in the forthcoming elections. I might as well forget it now." He said nothing else, then after pondering, continued earnestly. "It's amazing you've gone this long without getting pregnant..." Summer lay flat out on her bed, drowning out his words. For a long time she had managed to stop herself, but she had realized she was just running in place. So why not? Why not give yourself a release if your future doesn't matter anymore? Life was never going to be what she expected. It's sad when you learn there's nothing to live for.   
  
She turned her face into the pillow, trying to push the thoughts away. With what she knew, it was surprising she didn't even feel anything. There was no way she would be able to handle someone else when she couldn't even handle herself.  
  
"Summer! Don't you turn away from me." Summer raised her head from the fabric, examining the headboard with difficulty.  
  
"Dad?" she stated quietly, as if she were a little girl again. "I...I think I'm pregnant."   
  
  
  
  
_After the initial shock, her eyes shifted from a look of bewilderment to complete disgust.   
  
"How could you? You worthless piece of shit." Johnny could hear his heart pounding in his ears. His face and back were throbbing in severe pain. As his mother's angry rantings continued, Johnny's eyes focused in on a shiny, sharp little piece of glass that lay by itself on the cheap tile. Everything else around him was blocked out; almost as if he had tunnel vision. The shard of glass was so...  
  
Beautiful.   
  
Johnny could feel it beckoning him. His body was drenched in sweat as he crawled on the floor to the object. He didn't see his mother picking up the phone, he didn't see his mother dialing 911. He was just so _tired. _So _tired _of it all.   
  
So tired of life.   
  
His clammy hands grasped onto the sharp, shiny item. Johnny felt a sense of euphoria as he pressed the glass to his wrist. It was all going to be over now. The hopelessness, the anger.  
  
The pain.  
  
_  
  
  
That's what her parents were afraid of.   
  
They were afraid of being burned and it leaving an imprint on them forever. Soap can't clean the scars, water can't rinse it off. It's not easy to fix. Stepping out of the boundaries is unpredictable, so just don't get hurt in the first place! It's simple enough, right? Just how much do you miss because of that?   
  
Summer was so **drained **because of it, because of the situation that had presented itself to her.   
  
But it's so simple, it's so simple...  
  
Just do it the fast way...  
  
Just fix it. _  
  
_  
  
"Umm..." he peered over at his wife, twiddling his thumbs like a lost little boy. His body was shaking slightly and if he thought too long about the decision he had made...what they had done...bile would start rising up in his throat. It was killing him, if he would have known how it would have made him feel...  
  
His wife stood next to him, her eyes almost seemed to be drowning...in pain, regret...  
  
"Summer, please talk to us." She didn't move at all, it was as if she was catatonic. But Summer had agreed to it indirectly, right? She had been so terrified, although she hadn't wanted to admit it to herself. So she didn't fight back, she didn't challenge the decision.   
  
Always giving in to those darn authority figures.  
  
Her eyes had been staring at the hospital ceiling for such a long time that the image started to blur. She didn't know if she could ever speak to them again. Summer was **so** mad, **so **hurt, **so **hopeless.   
  
She was so dead inside...  
  
  
  
**  
  
Lyrics from "Blinded by the Light" **_


	11. Chapter 10

Hello fellow writers and readers :).  
Here is the next chapter. I apologize for it being so short, but for some reason it just felt right to post this specific part of the story as a full chapter...? (We'll never know why, lol)   
  
jkb: Once again, I cannot thank you enough for reviewing my chapter! Thanks so much for taking time to first of all read every chapter, and then respond thoughtfully. I know lots of people say this but I really do appreciate it! And you said that every chapter a sentence jumps out at you...I didn't know that haha:). I find it surprising how you mentioned that "...she didn't really feel fear. It was more like an insecure cynicism..." jumped out at you because I didn't really intend for that specific sentence to be so important. That's the good thing about stories though, everyone gets something different from it. If anything ever jumps out at you, please tell me because I find it quite interesting! Also, thanks for the compliment on the transitions! I didn't really mean to do transitions the way I did, it just kind of happened. I really hope you like this next part (sincerely)...  
  
kurupt emocions: I can't believe you read the whole thing ...! That's really nice of you to do that...in the beginning when i started to write this I had no idea it would be so long. Also, thanks for the advice! I really appreciate your review...  
  
I hope the use of adjectives in this installment isn't too much (making it story corny/overdone)....well, if it is, oh well...;)  
  
  
  
  
  
He could feel the sharp edge digging into his skin.   
  
He couldn't stop. Something else was there taking control of him. It punctured his skin. A tiny drop of red fluid slid its way down his wrist. Something about it was so pure. It was the release...  
  
...the desperation. Harsh, rapid, reckless desperation.   
  
Blissful, delirious desperation.   
  
Painful desperation.   
  
Why stop when there was nothing to live for? It could all be over within a matter of minutes. He didn't deserve to live.   
  
Johnny heard a noise. He didn't realize...  
  
Johnny jerked his head up, his vision focusing in on the person who was now finished with the phone call. She was standing in the middle of the tattered olive rug, a cynical snarl on her face. She knew the shard of glass was pressed to his wrist, she knew a drop of blood was leaking from the tiny prick.   
  
She didn't care.   
  
He realized. He was the one who had made the noise.   
  
He realized...  
  
_  
  
  
All those promises. They were such a lie...  
  
She could hear them speaking to her, but it was too hard. It was too hard to tune in to what they saying. Too hard to live her so-called life anymore. So she just ignored it. Ignoring your life and what's going on around you is much easier. No effort. No wasted energy.   
  
No pain.   
  
Promises. That's what they always do. They tell you everything's alright. They tell you it's going to get better. They tell you it's worth it.   
  
But it's not. _  
  
  
  
  
His hands were trembling as the object slipped out his hand. His whole body was trembling. Johnny rose from the cheap tile.   
  
Maybe.   
  
Maybe, just _maybe_, he was worth more than what he had been told his whole life. A few seconds before he had thought that if he committed suicide it would be the ultimate triumph over his parents; he would kill himself before they would kill him. But now he realized that if he killed himself his parents would be the winners. Johnny had always sacrificed himself for others, but he couldn't ignore his own feelings anymore. He had to stay alive, not for anybody else.  
  
He needed to do it for himself.  
  
_  
  
  
They didn't know what to do.   
  
The town and its associations. The stressful atmosphere. She needed a "breath of fresh air." Ha. The way they said it, like it was such a light deal. Like she needed a little walk through the park and everything would be fine and dandy.   
  
But **hey, **Mary, what about your sister? She lives in a **nice** little town. I think it will be good for Summer. It will be **nice** to get away for a while.   
  
It will be nice to leave it behind..._  
  
  
  
  
Johnny managed to stumble out the front door. He didn't look back at his mother. Ignoring the physical unease his body was experiencing, Johnny made his way as far from the house as he could.   
  
It was funny. Now it was as if, after he had almost taken his life, everything was so clear. It felt like he was actually _experiencing _life for once. Experiencing life for himself.   
  
He could hear the ambulance off in the distance. He knew why...  
  
Johnny walked for what seemed like an hour, making it several blocks away from his house. His body was hurting too much to continue. Johnny lowered himself onto a curb near an alley, attempting to stay upright. He could feel his entire face swelling up, and pain shot through his back with every movement he made. It hurt to breath.   
  
He was so _tired_.  
  
His left eye was swollen to the point that it was completely shut. Johnny felt his other eyelid drooping, but it snapped open when he heard something. He looked over. There was someone making his way from the eastern most part of the town. The hoodlum stopped when he noticed the black haired greaser on the curb. His pale eyes widened in surprise.  
  
"J- Johnny?" He stepped closer, his hand traveling to the kid's shoulder. Johnny winced, then looked up into a familiar face. He was losing energy. Johnny dropped his head before he could see the hurt on Dally's face.  
  
"I know why..." Johnny was surprised at how cracked and tired his voice sounded.   
  
"Huh? You okay kid?" Dally's words were soft, yet still seemed loud because the area was so quiet. Johnny didn't answer. The towhead waited patiently for an answer, then realized he wasn't going to receive one.   
  
"Johnny? You feel up to walking? Can you make it to the Curtises?" Johnny shook his head frantically.   
  
"No!" he choked out, "I don't want to go near- I can't- my Dad..." Dally instantly caught on.   
  
"Alright kid," he replied soothingly, "we won't do that, it's gonna be okay." Johnny's home life was bad enough, but Dallas could sense that this night something _bad_ had happened. Something worse than usual.  
  
He lowered himself onto the curb next to Johnny. The sixteen year old looked exhausted, and Dally automatically brought his hand up to Johnny's back as he started to nod off. Johnny's eyes shot open, flinching as he reacted to the touch.   
  
"No! My...my back, remember?"  
  
"Wha-?" Dally faltered, a few seconds later catching on to what the sixteen year old was saying. He turned his head away, stopping himself short before a string of curses escaped his mouth. How could he have been so stupid? He _should've_ known. He should've... "Again? Tonight?" Johnny nodded slowly. Dally sucked in a deep breath, trying to keep himself calm. He turned back around, examining Johnny's face. His fists clenched at the sight of his friend's throbbing face and horribly swollen eye_.   
  
Why? _Why Johnny? The following silence brought Dally's attention to Johnny's haggard breaths. He observed Johnny's back. Bloodstains were dotted all over the black fabric of his t-shirt. Dallas swallowed meagerly. Johnny was almost drifting off again, his free eyelid closing involuntarily.   
  
"Hey Johnnycake," Dally ordered, "I need you to stay up for me, okay? Can you do that?" Johnny felt so _drained_ he just wanted to sleep. "Come on kid, I know it's hard." He forced his eye open, attempting with all his willpower to stay awake. Dallas could see it in Johnny: something about him was different, something had _changed._   
  
Silence followed once again, and then suddenly Johnny spoke.   
  
"It was my dad." He didn't look up as he gave a bitter laugh. "What a lame excuse for a father." Dally found himself suddenly intrigued by the repeating brick pattern of the opposing wall. He couldn't face Johnny. Johnny had never spoken about his home life- his personal feelings- with such clarity before. It was as if he was growing; the shame wasn't written all over him anymore.   
  
Dallas suddenly felt desperate. He didn't want Johnny to change...  
  
"Johnny," he ordered in an attempt to take control, "I can tell you're having a hard time breathing. Let me see your back. I need to see how bad..." Dally sucked in his breath, unable to finish his sentence.   
  
He didn't want to be left behind. 


End file.
